Dudley's Dilemma
by kakistocrat
Summary: Dudley Dursley had a very nice life. A good job, a nice house, a loving family. He even had his parents living nearby. Then, one short walk with his four year old daughter changed that all.
1. Chapter 1

**Yes, I know that J.K. Rowling announced that Dudley wouldn't have any magical children, but if you're going to insult someone for inaccuracy, go find a Snarry fic. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Dudley Dursley was a very normal man. He had a relatively successful job at a small local insurance agency, a beautiful house near his parents in Little Winging, and a happy family. He had met his lovely wife, Kate, in a small village where he had stayed for around a year. He had two children, Dustin, 8, and Sarah, 4, who he loved very much and were very obedient. He also had a great many friends, all kind and willing to help him. For Dudley, life was going fine.

That was soon to change. Not in a markedly unpleasant way, but it would change nonetheless. You see, Dudley had an aunt who was a witch. She was dead, and Dudley still kept fairly regular contact with her son, but she received her magical genes from someone.

Dudley was taking a short walk through some nearby gardens with his daughter, skipping in front of him. She was so full of energy that sometimes, Dudley had a hard time keeping up. Dudley was a fairly fit person for his age; he had lost quite a bit of weight from the time when he was young. Still, he liked to take life slowly, to appreciate the little things.

He took a deep sniff of the aromatic scent of nature around him. It was probably the last time he would smell these flowers this year. A storm was coming in, and then it would be autumn.

"Look, Daddy!" exclaimed Sarah, "Flowers!" Dudley smiled affectionately. This was his favorite part of the gardens, and Sarah's too. She was always mildly surprised when she got there. She skipped along, her long hair flowing behind her. "Look, Look!" she repeated. "Daffodils!"

"Those are dandelions, Sarah, but you were close."

"And look at these!" she said in that endearing four-year-old tone. "Roses!" They were dead, but she was as happy with them as the others. "I love these ones!" said Sarah, pointing to a pretty little bunch of tulips. "Do your dance for me!"

Dudley chuckled for a moment, and then went dead silent. His mouth hung open. The tulips were swaying their stems, and the petals were opening and closing, like an actual dance.

"See?!" asked Sarah, with an awkward little flourish.


	2. Chapter 2

**So I checked my email, and I must say I was impressed by the number of subscribers for just one short chapter. Thank you all very much!**

Dudley paced his room muttering to himself. What was he going to do now? He still hadn't told Kate, Sarah still didn't know what she had done, and to top it all off, his parents were coming over for dinner that evening. He really needed someone who could deal with this better.

He sat down on the bed and exhaled, running his hand through his hair. He sat in silence for a minute, then got up, walked over to his dresser, opened one of the drawers and began rummaging through it quickly.

"Hey Dad" said Dustin, entering the door. "What're you doing?"

"Just looking for something," replied Dudley "Why don't you and your sister go play outside?"

"Okay." said Dustin. With one last quizzical look over his father's shoulder, he left.

Dudley located his objective. A small tattered piece of parchment that simply said,

In Case of Emergency,

1213-6749-2345

-Dedalus Diggle

Dudley reached for the phone, took another deep breath to calm himself, then dialed the number. Dedalus didn't have the best handwriting, so it took him three tries to get the right number. It was rather embarrassing to ask total strangers if he had dialed the right number to reach the Ministry of Magic, but finally, he was greeted by a cool female voice.

"Hello, Muggle, you have dialed the line for emergency Muggle-Wizard relations. Please state your emergency."

"Hi…I…er…need a number for Harry Potter?"

"You are being transferred to Non-emergency Muggle-Wizard relations. Please, never call this number for Non-Emergency purposes or you will be punished." said the voice, unfazed.

"Hullo?" came a relaxed, but slightly annoyed male voice. This was definitely a human.

"I need a phone number," said Dudley, slightly more confident "Are you the man to ask?"

"Sure, why not?" asked the man. It sounded like he was chewing on something, possibly a banana. "I can't guarantee they'll have a phone, most wizards don't, but whose number do you need?"

"Can you please get me the number for Harry Potter?"

"Nope" replied the man. "Mr. Potter has asked me to read the following statement when anyone asks for his number. Just hang on a sec…" The man searched through some papers, then adopted a mockingly official tone. "Mr. Potter thanks you for your devotion, but denies complete responsibility for…er…V-Voldemort's defeat." The man paused a second, then continued. "He asks you to remember that he needed the help of his friends, and to thank them too. He would also like to inform any ignorant witches or wizards that he already has a wife, and that you shouldn't believe anything Rita Skeeter writes. Although I am curious," continued the man, dropping his scornful tone, "Why would you, a muggle, call Wizard-Muggle relations to get Harry's number? How do you even know about him?"

"I just wanted to talk to him, because of a family crisis…" continued Dudley, falteringly, "And I only know about him because he's my cousin."

This gave the other man pause. After a few seconds, he responded, "I'll call Mr. Potter, ask him if he knows you ok? Name?"

"Dudley Dursley." There was a silence for a minute when the man spoke again. "Address?"

"461 Privet Drive"

"Thank you very much, sir" said the man, with a tone of almost reverence.

The man hung up. Dudley looked at the phone for a second, confused. He considered dialing the number again, when he heard a crack from outside, and the doorbell rang.

Dudley ran down the stairs quickly, but Kate was already at the door. She opened it. Harry stood there.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Harry Potter. Is Dudley home?"

Dudley sheepishly emerged from behind the stairs, shuffling his feet a bit. "Hey, Harry."

"Hello."


	3. Chapter 3

"So…" asked Harry "How're you doing?"

"Fine, fine…" replied Dudley awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," said Kate, her light brown hair flowing cascading around her shoulders. "But do you two know each other?"

"Yeah," answered Harry "We're cousins. We lived together growing up. Dudley just finally found my number, so I decided to come see what was happening."

"I don't remember you ever mentioning any aunts or uncles, Dudley!" said Kate happily. "Where have they been hiding?" She laughed.

Harry gave a little smile. "They're dead."

Kate's smile slowly sunk. "I'm so sorry…I…"

"It's okay," assured Harry. "It was a long time ago."

"I think I'll just leave you two to catch up." Kate tactfully left the room.

Harry looked at Dudley. "Does she know?" Dudley shook his head. Truthfully he was a little afraid of Harry. He liked to think of him and Harry as friendly, but truthfully he hadn't seen Harry since ten years ago, before he married Kate. All he knew about Harry was that he was in training for something like the Erer Department at the Ministry of Magic and that Ginny Weasley was his girlfriend at the time. All of that had probably changed since that chance meeting on the Underground. He didn't even know if Harry had fully forgiven him.

"How are things at the Erer Department?" asked Dudley, in an attempt at small talk.

"Auror," corrected Harry "and things are going fine. We've rounded up almost all of the dementors. That's what most of my agents are working on now." Dudley shuddered at the mention of the foul creatures.

"And you have agents working for you?" asked Dudley. "That's nice. So are you the head of the department?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Harry trailed off. "So what are you doing now?"

"I work in the advertising department in an insurance agency downtown. It's a nice job, I enjoy it."

"Sounds nice."

"It is," assured Dudley. "So, how's Ginny?" he asked, hoping that they hadn't gone through some messy breakup or something.

"Married, three kids." replied Harry happily.

"That's great," murmured Dudley.

"So why did you call me over here? As glad to see you as I am, I know that you didn't just call me over to catch up."

Dudley shifted awkwardly. "Okay, Harry, I don't know if you've forgiven me for all the horrible things I did to you when we were kids, I certainly wouldn't have, but right now, I need you to help me out."

"Dudley, I've been over all of that for a long time now. But please, continue."

"One hour ago, I went on a walk with my daughter, Sarah. You may have seen her as you came in, she was playing outside." Harry nodded. "Anyway, we were in the town gardens, and she saw the last of the tulips. She said 'Do your dance for me!' and the tulips actually began to sway and move! I mean what does that mean? Do you know anything?"

Harry leaned back, put his hand through his hair, and exhaled. "Well, Dudley, I'd say that your daughter's a witch." Dudley nodded grimly. "You still have any prejudices against us?" asked Harry, referring to the magical population as a whole.

"No, no," assured Dudley, "It's just going to take some getting used to. I mean, I still love her; but her grandparents are coming over tonight, and I'm not sure they'll take it the same way." Harry grimaced. "Besides,-" He was interrupted by Sarah bursting through the door, dripping wet and sobbing.

Dudley swept her up into his arms as she cried into his shoulder. Harry tilted his head, and looked at her hair questioningly. Normally, it was dark brown, but when it got wet, he could see just a tinge of dark red. "What happened, sweetie?" asked Dudley, comfortingly.

"Me an' Dustin were playing with the hose," she sobbed. "Then the scary men came and we ran away."

"What scary men?" asked Dudley, suddenly concerned.

"The scary black men, who were all cold, and sad, and then I remembered when you and Mommy were fighting, and I got scared, and I felt like I could never be happy again!" she said, emphasizing happy, as most four-year-olds do.

A chill seemed to fall over Harry and Dudley, as if one of the scary black men was there right now. "Dementors," they said.

"Wait, Sarah, where's Dustin?!" asked Dudley, suddenly frantic. Sarah looked towards the window, then pointed one little hand out.

"Dudley, get chocolate!" yelled Harry, as he ran out the door. Dudley, confused, burst into the kitchen. He grabbed a few bars of chocolate from his wife's stash.

"Dudley, don't touch those!" yelled Kate from down the hall. "Dudley!?" Dudley ignored her and sprinted outside, only stopping to drop of half a bar on Sarah's lap. She slowly unwrapped it, and still sniffling, began to eat.

Dudley stopped. There was no sign of Harry, Dustin, or any of the dementors, even though Dudley knew that as a muggle, he wouldn't be able to see them anyway. Dudley started looking down the side streets and alleys. He was about halfway down his street when he saw Dustin come stumbling out of a street just ahead of him. He was ghostly pale. Dudley handed him a bar of chocolate. "Where's Harry?"

"Down Duskburrow Alley," sniffed Dustin. "Dad, that was so,- Dad?" But Dudley was already gone. Dudley wheeled around a corner rapidly. It was starting to get cold, and Dudley began to lose hope of finding Harry at all, when he heard a cry from a few buildings down of "Expecto Patronum!" Dudley dashed down Duskburrow, and noticed the thickness of the dark mist. As he struggled to see where Harry was, evil memories began to torment him.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he heard a voice yell, and a silver stag burst forth out of the darkness, abolishing the memories torturing Dudley. Dudley fought his way through the mist to find the stag's source. Harry stood there, and the stag charged around him, fighting the dementors Dudley couldn't see. But the stag couldn't be everywhere at once, and while the stag battled in front of them, cold crept up from behind. Harry directed his stag back, but then the dementors assaulted them from the front. Dudley imagined there must be hundreds. A sweeping wave of cold engulfed Dudley, and the silver light of the stag was extinguished. The dementors had come too close, and Dudley's memories had free rein. An obese ten-year-old punching a skinny boy with black hair and green eyes. Dudley could see that the boy was barely keeping the tears back…A massive, greedy bully, picking on another ten-year-old whose name he couldn't even remember.

"Harry!" exclaimed Dudley. "Help!"

Harry was already shaking badly. "Ginny…" he whispered. "Think of Ginny…and James…or Albus…or Lily…EXPECTO PATRONUM!" but only very thin wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand. Another dementor swooped close, and Harry collapsed on the ground, twitching. Dudley dropped to his knees in despair.

"Wake up, Harry! Wake up! Think of Ginny!" He yelled desperately. Harry only writhed around even more.

"Come back!" he yelled. "Come back!"

"I'm back!" assured Dudley, "I'm Ginny. Don't worry, Harry, wake up!" Dudley realized it hadn't worked, he couldn't imitate Ginny's voice. Another memory battered his mind. A spoiled brat throwing a tantrum over his cousin getting an old, useless room. "I'm Albus! Come back, Harry!" Harry opened his eyes just a millimeter.

"You're not Albus," whispered Harry, "You're Dudley."

"Yes, but Harry, you need to go get help!" Dudley tried to pull him up into a standing position. "Come on, Harry, do it for Ginny!" Harry took a deep breath and stood up. "I'll lead them away from people! You get help!"

Harry closed his eyes and spun on the spot. Nothing happen. Harry screwed up his face as if he was in serious pain, (which he was) and disappeared.

Dudley knew he couldn't outrun his pain, and the horrible memories he had created, but he tried anyway. He was obviously much slower than the dementors, and even when he ran, the cold and sadness surrounding him didn't change at all.

Even though he couldn't outrun them, trying to escape gave him just a little determination. He ran for what felt like hours, even though he was sure it was less than two minutes. Then there were hundreds of CRACKs from around him, followed by hundreds of calls of "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" It must have been a difficult spell, because only about fifty solid patronuses arose from the congregation around him. There were rabbits, horses, otters, snakes, even a cow, and Dudley felt the sadness evaporate.

For the next few minutes, he could see that the dementors were being driven away, and a ministry official came by to give him hot chocolate. Dudley went back to his house to fetch Sarah and Dustin. The ministry hot chocolate was specifically designed to help one recover from dementor attacks. Kate followed along, very confused and very angry.

They all sat down, and Kate leashed out her anger. "Dudley! What is going on here!?" she yelled. "Sarah runs in crying, and you steal some of my chocolate and sprint out of the room to follow some man who says he's your cousin, but I've never seen before. Then, Dustin comes in, and a few minutes later, you come to show us a bunch of people in robes? Have you joined a cult?! Have you gone insane?!"

"Kate, I'm very sorry, but we can explain all of this in time. All you need to do is trust me, and…"

"JUST WHAT THE RUDDY HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Harry and Dudley winced, and turned slowly to face, neck bulging, eyes popping, veins throbbing, temples pulsing, face slowly reddening, Vernon Dursley.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all of your reviews! They are much appreciated!**

Kate, Harry, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon all looked at each other for a minute. The silence lasted surprisingly long. Finally, Kate spoke up. "It looks like you have a lot of explaining to do, Dudley," Dudley nodded.

"More than you think," he added. At that moment, Aunt Petunia came running up behind Vernon.

"Vernon! What are you doing? What's…oh." She noticed Harry, and all the men in cloaks behind, then fell silent.

"Will you explain what that… boy," Uncle Vernon spat, looking at Harry, "is doing here?!" Harry raised his eyebrows. He was almost thirty years old, hardly a boy anymore.

"Dudley, what's going on?" asked Kate, her anger receding, and being replaced by panic. "Why do your parents now this man? Is he actually your cousin? What's happened to Dustin and Sarah?" She was really beginning to lose control.

"Dad, I need to explain things to Kate first. She's my wife."

"I WILL NOT BE RUDDY NEGLECTED! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

"Vernon," said Aunt Petunia so softly Dudley wasn't sure he had heard her at all. "Vernon, I agree. They're her children, not ours." She said this all rapidly, her voice becoming a crescendo as she gained courage.

Vernon looked between Petunia and Dudley, his mouth hanging open, about to spit out some of his favorite words, but he couldn't decide who to target. After a few moments, he closed his mouth with a disapproving grunt and motioned for Kate and Dudley to go talk.

Dudley arose, and took Kate by the arm, bringing her along with him. Harry stood and followed, in case Dudley needed any help. A few confused outbursts from Kate later, they returned. Kate appeared to be lost, deep in thought. Dudley could hardly blame her. It was quite a shock for him to learn Sarah was a witch, and he already knew that witches and wizards existed.

The three of them sat back down on a park bench as more Aurors apparated around them to continue to steer the demontors to the huge prison built for them. Obliviators came too, for a few muggles had become suspicious of the hundreds of cloaked people running around.

Vernon exhaled deeply. "Now will you tell us what in this ruddy world is going on?"

"Dad, Sarah is a witch." said Dudley simply. He quickly plugged his ears and screwed up his eyes in preparation for the bout of swearing, but none came. Dudley opened his eyes. Vernon's face was not red, but white, and he was mouthing words no one could decipher. Aunt Petunia had clapped her hands to her face, but quickly realized Vernon was about to topple over, and lowered him onto the bench.

"Go on," said Aunt Petunia, fanning Vernon with her hand. He appeared to be reviving, but was still in a state of shock.

"Well, you see, they were playing outside while I was consulting Harry on what to do, when they were attacked by dementors.

"Dementias!?" exploded Vernon. "Those things that attacked you and Potter?"

"Wait, Dustin and Sarah were attacked? You didn't tell me that! Are they okay? What are dementors?" asked Kate, once again frantic, scanning the crowd of wizards desperately to see where they were. They were being given some more hot chocolate by a wizard in a ministry suit, and were both wrapped in blankets.

"Yes, yes, yes, and dementors are soulless creatures that feed on happiness. They suck it out, and if given enough time, they can even suck out one's soul. I don't know what they look like, muggles can't see them," answered Dudley calmly. "Fortunately Harry held them off until he could get help."

"Dudley, you did most of it. I couldn't have even gotten up without you. I can't take any of the credit."

"I'll tell you what you can't do," said Vernon, regaining his composure. "I won't have freaks like you interfering in my grandchildren's lives! I'm going to ask you right now to leave and you better do it!"

Harry looked pointedly at him. He took out his wand, directed it at Dudley's backside, and then redirected it to Vernon. Vernon paled, and Dudley flushed, both remembering the incident. Kate looked confused, but decided not to ask.

"Anyway," continued Harry, ignoring Vernon's incomprehensible stutters, "We should probably find out exactly what happened. Paperwork and all, you understand." He got up and walked over to Dustin and Sarah. Dudley followed him, as did Kate. The whole affair was too much for Vernon, who was back on the bench, white as a ghost, with Aunt Petunia trying to revive him, looking nervously around, as if expecting neighbors with cameras to pop up at any moment.

Dudley sat down on a cooler full of investigation supplies. Harry and Kate stood behind him. "Dustin," said Dudley, empathetically. "I know that you just went through something very hard, I know, it happened to me also, but we need you to tell us what happened."

Dustin took a deep breath in and sat in silence for a minute, then slowly, but building speed and strength began to tell the story. "Sarah and I were playing outside with the hose and the water guns. She had the hose, so she could spray more water, but I had the water gun, which was portable, so I run away. Then, I snuck up behind her, and sprayed her in the hair, and she started to run away. I chased her a few streets, until I ran out of water. By then we had gone too far, and I couldn't remember how to get home. I started walking, when I saw a bunch of black dots far away. I thought they were crows, so I didn't pay attention, but I still couldn't find the way home, and the dots were getting closer. Once they got really close, I saw that they weren't really crows, they were flying people in black cloaks, and I started to run, and Sarah followed me."

At this point, Harry straightened his back, and looked around for a second, thinking, but Dustin continued. "When they were really close, it got cold, and I got scared, and I remembered all the bad secrets I had, and all the bad things I had done, and all the times I had ever been scared. Then Sarah ran the other way, and all the black things were in my way, so I couldn't see where she went, and I was worried about her. Then a silver stag jumped in and fought the black things, and it made me feel better. Then he," indicating Harry, "told me which way to run, and then you gave me some chocolate, and that's all.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that Dustin," said Dudley, feeling very sorry for him.

Harry tapped Dudley's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dudley, but do you realize that no one has ever described to your son what a dementor looks like?"

"Yes, but-"

"And that he just accurately described exactly what a dementor looks like?"

"Yes, and…oh," said Dudley, comprehension dawning on his features.

"Oh," agreed Kate, who could hardly have been more surprised before this revelation anyway.

Dudley stood, turned and yelled to his father, "Guess what Dad? You get to have a wizard for a grandson as well!"

Vernon, who was slowly standing up, made a funny choking sound and collapsed on the ground. Aunt Petunia sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about the following things!**

**My long absence (I need a break too)**

**Any errors the last chapter.**

**If you couldn't get too the last chapter, or got two notification emails. (I was correcting an error almost immediately after I uploaded it, but when I uploaded the correct version, fanfiction messed up and wouldn't let me!)**

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Everything was surprisingly calm for the next few days. Harry had assured them that he would be back to help on Saturday (It was Wednesday when they were attacked). By Friday, Dudley wondered if the entire thing had been a dream. It was pretty fanciful, and certainly unlikely.

He was rudely awakened when he found one of Sarah's dolls hovering about an inch over the ground.

Other than that though, nothing was different, or out of the ordinary. Dustin was a bit happier, possibly because his birthday was in only two weeks, Kate was still very supportive, and probably confused, and Sarah was as energetic and cheerful as ever.

Dudley still hadn't heard from Vernon or Petunia. He knew that they needed a bit of time to help deal with it. Perhaps more than a bit in Vernon's case, but Dudley hoped he would turn around eventually.

He planned on going to visit them a week after Dustin's birthday, as Dustin would be turning ten, making it only one year until he went to Hogwarts. Dudley was already worrying about what to do. He knew nothing of the wizarding world. He would never figure out where to get school stuff for Dustin, and didn't know what kind of education Dustin was expected to receive before hand.

Granted, Harry hadn't known anything special about the wizards before he left, and he never seemed to have had any problems at Hogwarts (That Dudley knew of). But perhaps, that was why Harry was coming to visit on Saturday. Dudley hoped that was his motive. He wanted to know more about this Hogwarts that Harry had spent so much time at, especially since his son would be going there in just a little over a year.

Dudley was pondering all of this early Saturday when he heard a loud crack. Dudley knew what it meant, but was still surprised, and jumped up out of his seat. Kate came running into the sitting room, as Sarah descended from upstairs, and Dustin entered from outside.

"Who dropped something?" asked Kate, perplexed.

Dudley smiled. "I think Harry just arrived." Sure enough, a second later, there was a knock at the door. Dudley got up and answered it. There stood Harry, smiling.

"Hey, Dudley, mind if I come in?" he asked. Dudley nodded happily, and Harry entered. "Sorry if I startled you. I'd drive, but I don't have a car. I'd buy a car, but I have no need to, since I can apparate!" Harry laughed. Dudley didn't entirely get it, but if Harry had just arrived via apparation, then he might. Harry looked around the room to see his welcoming party.

"You're the man who scared away the robe guys!" exclaimed Sarah happily as she ran up and hugged his legs. Harry looked surprised at the sudden affection, but patted her head calmingly. Dustin also beamed up at Harry, perhaps aware of what Harry was going to tell them all about.

"You can call me…" said Harry, glancing up at Dudley, wonderingly "…'Uncle' Harry." Dudley smiled. It certainly sounded closer than 'Cousin-once-removed' Harry. Sarah let go of Harry's legs, still looking joyfully up at him.

"Dudley, can I talk to you in private for a minute?" asked Harry. Dudley nodded, and gestured over to the kitchen. Dudley followed Harry in.

"What did you want to talk about?" asked Dudley, curious.

Harry looked around, as if to make sure they were still alone. "I was just wondering," he muttered in an undertone, "If you have ever seen Dustin displaying any magical talents before Wednesday."

Dudley frowned. "Not that I can remember. And I think I would remember anything remarkable about him, before Wednesday, almost everything was fairly normal."

It was Harry's turn to frown. "Well, most magical experts agree that signs of magic usually display themselves before the age of seven. So either I was wrong when I said he was a wizard, he was an exception to the rule, he has performed magic and you didn't notice it, but he didn't think of it as anything special, or he has been hiding it from you. I doubt I was wrong, and almost 99 of the time the rule is right, so it's got to be one of the last two. I'd just talk to him once I leave, okay?"

Dudley grunted in agreement. He didn't think Dustin would lie to him, but if he knew anything about underage magic from Harry, he doubted it would have simply gone unnoticed. Maybe Vernon's frightening influence had intimidated Dustin, and caused him to hide all of his magic.

Harry clapped Dudley on the shoulder and they left. Kate was sitting on a large comfy chair in the sitting room. Dustin was on the couch, holding a notebook. Sarah was lying on the floor. Harry chuckled. They knew what to expect. Harry and Dudley sat themselves at the two chairs in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Harry cleared his throat and began. "Today I'm going to tell you about a magical castle, because you're Daddy asked me too. The castle is called Hogwarts, and it's a long ways away. You have to take the train to get to it. The train leaves from the magical Platform 9 3/4 , which is full of wizards." Sarah gasped, delighted. Dustin took a little note, and Harry continued. He told them about the gentle half-giant, Hagrid. Dudley allowed himself a small smile at the memory. He told them of the Sorting hat, and the four houses. He told them of the ghosts, and of Peeves, the Poltergeist. He had even started on Quidditch, when his watch beeped. Harry quickly wrapped his story up.

He arose, and so did Dudley and Kate. Dustin jotted down one last note, and Sarah sighed. "When will you come again, Uncle Harry?"

Harry glimpsed at Dudley. "Next week, same time?" Dudley looked surprised but nodded. He hadn't expected him to come more than once. "Great, I'll see you then!" He stepped outside, closed the door, and with a crack, he was gone.

"Wow," said Dustin. "He's really a wizard, isn't he?"

"He sure is," replied Dudley. "Dustin, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Dustin looked surprised, but agreed. Dudley led Dustin up to his room, kneeled down, and asked him, "Dustin, when Harry was talking to me in the kitchen, he told me some things about magic." Dustin nodded expectantly. "So now I have to ask. Have you ever done some magic, or something you didn't know you could do, and never told anyone?"

Dustin looked up surprised, then, his bottom lip trembling, back down at the floor. "Yes." he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Since I forgot to say it last chapter,**

**Reviews would be appreciated! ******

**Reviews would be appreciated! ******

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Dudley nodded, trying to be both encouraging and sympathetic. "What happened?" he asked. Dustin took a deep breath in and began slowly.

"It was…almost five years ago. Mom had taken off her engagement ring while she was washing dishes, and I picked it up." Dudley nodded again. That ring had gone missing around that time, but Kate said it must have fallen in the sink. It had been very sad, but Dudley eventually replaced it. "I was holding it in my hand," continued Dustin, "I looked at it, and it was really pretty. There was a word on it, and I tried to read the word."

"The word was 'forever'," said Dudley. "Mom thought it was really romantic."

"So, I tried to read the word," persisted Dustin, his words coming slightly quicker now, "but I thought I was going blind or something, because the more I concentrated on the word, the fainter it got! I focused and focused on the word, but I couldn't figure it out. I could hardly even see the ring. Now I was worried that I had gone blind, but when I blinked to look again, the ring was gone!" His words came faster, and more frantically, as if trying to justify themselves. It was as if Dudley had broken a dam inside his son. "I wanted to show someone what I had done, and what I could do, but Mom was too busy, You were at work, and Sarah wasn't even born! I mean, I didn't know that the ring would be gone forever! I thought I had just hidden it, or that I could make it reappear. But I had to show someone and…" His words slowed to almost a halt. "I called Jorden Barrow."

Another realization hit Dudley like a baseball bat. Jorden was one of Dustin's childhood friends who had mysteriously stopped contact with him around the time of Dustin's story. "Jorden… he never jumped off that wall, did he?"

Almost sobbing, Dustin shook his head. "I didn't know that I had done something weird! I thought he would laugh or he would like it. So we met outside, I told him to give me something, and he gave me a little pebble from the road, and I told him I was going to do a magic trick. I focused on the pebble like before, and it disappeared, and he got scared, and said I was a witch, but I said I wasn't, because I was a boy, but then he hit me and called me a freak, and I fell over, and he was about to kick me, but when he stepped on the ground, his leg just broke, and he started crying, and…" Dustin paused for a breath, and a quiet sob. "He thought that I was going to hurt him. He said that he wasn't going to tell anyone, and that I should just leave him alone. Then he made up a story about him jumping off the wall, and breaking his leg, so that no one would find out. Then the next day, Grandma and Grandpa Dursley came over, and during dinner, they kept talking about how suspicious and strange Jorden breaking his leg was. Then they talked about how much better it was to be normal. I felt ashamed, and when I went to sleep that night, I decided never to do anything weird again."

Dudley was appalled. "Oh, son!" he said, sweeping Dustin up into a hug. "I'm sorry you had to live with thinking you were a freak for so long! There is nothing wrong with you, and I'm sure you're sorry for what you did to Jorden." Dustin cried into Dudley's shoulder.

"I am, I am,"

Dustin cried for quite some time. It had probably been his worst memory, and he had finally divulged it. Come to think of it, it was probably even worse to relive it so soon after the dementors had attacked him. A surge of sympathy welled up inside Dudley. Maybe half an hour later, Dustin extricated himself from Dudley's hug, quietly murmured, "Thanks, Dad," and left. Dudley knelt there for a second then slowly arose.

The thought came to him to relay to Kate what Dustin had told him. He mulled it over in his mind, wondering if Dustin had only meant for him to know. Of course, Kate wasn't Petunia. She wouldn't tell all the local gossips how her son had actually broken Jorden's leg. That was the reason Dudley had started dating her in the first place. She was a welcome change from his mother. Dudley slowly came down the stairs. He could hear Sarah playing with her dolls from the basement. Apparently, her prince was a wizard who went to Hogwarts, and he was fighting a dragon while the princess and her friends had tea nearby. Dudley chortled and went into the kitchen.

It seemed to Dudley that Kate was always in the kitchen. She was a fair cook, so there was some reason, but she had just finished making lunch for all of them. Normally she took at least an hour for a break before she started on dinner. She, however, was not cooking. The family computer was located on one of the counters in the back of the kitchen, and she was on the internet.

"What are you doing, honey?" asked Dudley, coming up behind her, and putting his hand between her shoulder blades.

"Shhhh…" she quieted, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'm looking for a cake for Dustin. I can't seem to find the right one." Dudley found this hard to believe, as she was looking on a site with 284 pages of cakes.

"His birthday isn't for a week," he reasoned, "You don't have to worry about anything for a while."

"I'm just trying to be prepared. What did you and Dustin talk about?" Kate asked, bringing Dudley back to earth.

He took a deep breath in. "When Dustin was five, you were doing the dishes, and had taken off our engagement ring, our original ring." Kate looked intrigued. "He picked it up, and looked at it, but the more he looked at it, the fainter it got until it disappeared. He thought that he could get it back, or something, so he wanted to try with something else, and show what he could do to someone. You were busy, and I was at work, so he invited Jorden Barrow over. When Dustin showed him what he could do, Jorden got scared and hit him, and told him he was a freak. He was about to hit him again, when Jorden's leg broke. They made a pact not to tell people Jorden had just jumped off a wall. That night, my parents came over, and started talking about how abnormal the circumstances of Jorden's broken leg were, remember? Like how clean the break was? It wasn't jagged at all. Then they told all of us how much better it was to be normal. Dustin decided that he would hide what he could do, and never again be a freak," revealed Dudley, bitterly.

"Well that's horrible!" exclaimed Kate, dismayed. "And then your parents, rubbing it in? They knew Dustin was with Jorden. How could they not think about their company before they said anything?"

"My parents have never been very accepting about magic."

"Still," said Kate, returning her view to the computer screen. "I don't see how he could live with all of those secrets bottled up."

"He cried for a while," admitted Dudley. "Hey," he said, pointing at the screen. "How about that one?"

"I'm sure your parents will love that." Kate scoffed. "I'm sure you're parents will love that." She opened the menu, and pressed the print key with wanton malice.

**Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews! ******** I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I couldn't finish it before I lost access to the computer I was working on, and I really wanted to post two chapters this week!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! I'm sorry for such a long time between updates, but I've been kind of sick lately, and I've got a huge paper due, and I need to study for midterms, which are coming up soon for my school.**

**Also, I kind of wanted to write a longer chapter this time so, that's why it took so long.**

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The next week was Dustin's birthday. He was having his party later that afternoon, and they were all having a fun time getting ready. After Dustin's sixth birthday, Dudley and Kate had gotten together and decided that they would only have a big party every other year, and a small family affair every other time. This year was the year for a big party. Dudley was hanging streamers, Sarah arranging Dustin's presents (which thankfully were never as numerous as the ones Dudley had gotten himself) Dustin was putting away anything fragile in case the party got out of control. Kate had barricaded herself in the kitchen for the past week, getting her masterpiece ready for the party. She had literally only emerged late at night to sleep, and awoken early to get cooking again. Dudley had bought take-out for himself and the children, since Kate would not even let them in, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

Dudley had just poked himself in the thumb with a tack, and was sucking on it when he heard a knock at the door. He descended from his stool and opened it. There was Harry, smiling, with a sleek, compact, black car behind him. It looked expensive. Dudley raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Harry?" he asked, then remembering, "Oh I'm sorry, Harry, I forgot I told you to come!"

"It's alright," assured Harry "Look what I bought! I don't know if it's much good, but it was about time I got a car anyway, you know, with Teddy going to school and all…" He stared at it wistfully. Dudley assumed Teddy was Harry's son. "Andromeda could drive if she wanted to, but she's getting on in years, so I thought I'd save her the hassle." Dudley was now thoroughly confused, wondering what this Andromeda person had to do with this Teddy person, and how either of them were related to Harry.

"It's a very nice car," promised Dudley "but it still seems like a lot to buy a car just for trips to King's Cross once a year, and visits to here every once in a while. How much did that cost?" he inquired. He wished Vernon could see and admire the car. It would certainly be interesting his change of attitude towards the car and its owner when he realized it was Harry's.

Harry blushed slightly, and murmured something that sounded like; "Oh, it wasn't that much," Harry seemed slightly embarrassed by his wealth. "What's all this for?" asked Harry, trying to change the subject. "I hope you didn't set all of this up for me?" he grinned.

Dudley realized Harry was still on the doorstep, and showed him in. "No," he stated. "It's Dustin's birthday today. The party starts at noon."

"Happy Birthday!" congratulated Harry. "Is there anything I can do to help?" When Dudley assured him there wasn't, Harry told him, "Then I don't want to intrude, unless…Maybe, can I come by with Teddy and James later? They aren't exactly his age, but they could still be nice to have around?"

"That's a great idea!" exclaimed Dudley. "I'd really like to meet them anyway, and this is a good opportunity." Harry thanked Dudley, stepped out into the driveway, confirmed the time of the party, stepped into his car, and drove away.

It was a few hours later, and everyone was just beginning to arrive. Dustin had invited every boy in his grade, and a few from other grades. They were playing football in the backyard in preparation. Dustin was the goalie, and he was doing pretty well.

"He looks like he might be a good keeper," said Harry, suddenly standing next to him. Dudley jumped. "Sorry," apologized Harry, "You left the door open."

Dudley laughed at his surprise. "Oh, by the way," continued Harry, "This is Teddy." Once again Dudley almost jumped as he noticed the purple-haired teenager.

The boy held out his hand, smiling. "Hello," he said "Nice to meet you. Sorry about my hair. I'd change it, but I'm not very good at it yet."

"Oh, um… it's okay!" said Dudley, confused once again. How could he not control the color of his hair? Either he chose to dye it or not.

"I tried to change it brown, but this purple seems to be a particularly stubborn shade. See?" he bent over, showing Dudley a small tan patch on top of his head. "Now I look stupider than if I hadn't tried at all. It's okay though, everyone here is too short to notice it," he laughed.

"Teddy," chided Harry.

"It's true!"

Harry shook his head, smiling. "And this is…James?" Whoever Harry expected to be there wasn't. "Oh no," he muttered. "JAMES?! Come on, Dudley, you don't want to leave James alone for too long." Dudley quickly ran upstairs, and Harry down. Teddy stayed on the ground floor. He wasn't hard to find. A minute later Dudley heard Teddy yell "I found him!"

Dudley ran down the stairs to find a boy about a year older than Sarah ripping down the streamers he had just put up, and laughing uproariously. Sarah was pouting in the corner, knowing Dudley had spent the morning hanging them up. "I swear," said Harry, picking James up out of the wreckage, "Sometimes you're almost as bad as Uncle George!" Little James cheered, apparently proud to be compared to the Weasley trickster. The tips of Dudley's ears turned red as he remembered the disastrous consequences of the last time he saw 'Uncle' George. Come to think of it, he really hadn't had very many good encounters with wizards. Teddy had apparently lost interest, and was staring out the window, confused, at the little boys playing football. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket. "You don't mind do you?" he asked, pointing at the ripped up streamers.

"Not at all. It'll be less work than putting them up by hand again," laughed Dudley. Harry waved his wand, and the ripped up streamers reformed, and hung themselves on the wall. Sarah clapped, delighted.

Harry set James down and kneeled to his eye level. "Now James," he began, "you already know that destroying what other people worked for is wrong, so I'm going to ask you to apologize to Uncle Dudley."

James sighed and grumbled, "Not another uncle," before staring down at his feet for a few seconds, then speaking, quite loudly, "I'm sorry, Uncle Dudley."

Dudley assured him it was okay, and sent him and Sarah off to play downstairs. "He can be quite a handful sometimes," Harry sighed. "I think he spends too much time with little Fred. Albus is so much more cooperative. I'd have brought him along, but he's got a bit of the flu."

There was a silence for a moment, interrupted when Teddy asked, "What are they doing?" Dudley looked out the window for a minute before he realized that Teddy was pointing at the boys playing football.

"It's a muggle sport, Teddy," Harry told him. They have to kick the ball into the goal.

"Where are the brooms?" asked Teddy, "Or at least some explosions? A game is no fun without any of those!" Dudley laughed, perplexed at this interesting view of sports in general.

"Why don't you go outside and watch them?" suggested Harry. "You may find that simple games can be fun too." Teddy looked doubtful, but exited the room anyway.

"So how old is he?" asked Dudley, trying to get some information on this whole confusing relation between him and Harry.

"Thirteen," replied Harry. "His third year at Hogwarts is starting soon." He sighed. Dudley did some quick math in his head. If Teddy was Harry's son, then Harry must have… Dudley was surprised. He had gotten the impression Harry was going off on some epic quest. He wouldn't have thought Harry had time for such…frivolities just a few months after he went away.

"So…er…what's the deal with him?" asked Dudley, hoping that there was some other explanation.

"His mother was a metamorphamagus," replied Harry, misinterpreting the question. "It means that she could change her appearance at will, and Teddy inherited that. He doesn't have much control over it yet though," Harry chuckled softly. "You should have seen him during the infamous 'Pig-snout-first-day-of-school' incident." The smile faded slightly from Harry's face. "His father was a great friend of my father and a great friend of mine as well. Both of his parents were killed in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Oh…" said Dudley in understanding. "I'm sorry,"

"Not your fault at all," continued Harry, "but he lives with his grandmother, Andromeda, and I'm his godfather. He usually comes to visit on weekends."

Dudley nodded. Everything made much more sense now. Dudley heard a shower turn on upstairs. Kate must have finished her cake, and was now washing herself from her days of constant cooking. Maybe Dudley could sneak one small peek… He shushed Harry, then slunk out of the room. His hand hovered over the kitchen doorknob. He slowly brought his hand down to turn it…

"Don't you dare!" came an angry voice from upstairs. Dudley grinned, shrugged at Harry, and went outside to get the party started for real. Ten chaotic games, all of them ending with Harry, Dudley, Teddy, or Mrs. Bard (Mark Bard, Dustin's best friend's mother) being tackled.

The adults shepherded the children in, in preparation for the opening of gifts, and eating of cake. Dudley was rounding up the few stragglers, who were trying to start another game of football, when he heard a knock at the door. He was slightly confused as he went to answer it. Everyone who was expected was there. Dudley got quite a shock when he opened the door to find his parents. Vernon stood unusually straight and upright, a look of grim formality on his face. Petunia clutched her husbands arm.

"Ahem," Vernon coughed, in preparation for what sounded like a prepared speech. "We have decided to support our grandchildren because they are our grandchildren. We will not have anything to do with their…nonsense." Dudley made as if to speak, but Vernon raised a finger to cut him off. "We will still attend events, birthdays, and the like, but don't expect us to go to…" he snorted, "Platform 9 ¾ or whatever it is."

"I'm glad you came around," said Dudley, smiling. He showed them in. Vernon's jaw clenched as he saw Harry, but fortunately, Dudley managed to find a hat and stuff in on Teddy's head before Vernon saw the 'unnatural' color. Sarah and James emerged from the downstairs. James looked like he had fun, but Sarah looked quite exasperated. Dustin looked at the large pile of gifts in front of him, and started to rip them open voraciously.

It was standard ten-year old fare. Squirt guns, footballs, remote control airplanes and cars, games made for some portable device or other. The air was filled with "Oh, Thanks!" and "No problem!" and a few "That looks cool!" Harry had bought him a box filled with different kinds of sweets, none of which Dudley recognized. As Dustin moved on to a few of his other presents, Dudley could have sworn he saw James put what looked like a large cluster of cockroaches into the box of candy. Dudley laughed it off. Vernon and Petunia were doing remarkably well at pretending nothing had changed. It made Dudley feel a bit guilty about the choice of cake.

But it was too late. Dustin had opened his last present, (Some kind of board game) and someone flicked out the lights. There was a dim light coming from the kitchen, as Kate emerged, singing 'Happy Birthday' and holding the most spectacular cake Dudley had ever seen.

It was a massive, three layer cake in a stunning rendition of a castle. Every stone had separate dabs of grey frosting on it, with white 'mortar' connecting them all. There were even towers made of cupcakes, with little roofs made of different kinds of hard candy. There were windows, huge doors, and right across the front of the cake, words reading "Have a magical year!" There were even two little figures, a boy and a girl, standing on the platter, looking straight at the doors. No one but Kate was singing anymore, they were too astounded. It was truly her crowning achievement.

Vernon was shaking in anger, and excused himself to the bathroom. Even Harry was looking very impressed. Kate set it down on the table, and there was silence for a minute, then Dustin took a deep breath and blew out the candles on the top. Every one of them went out. There was another short silence, when Petunia began to clap. A few others joined in, and soon, the room was filled with applause. Even Vernon came in, slightly calmed down, to join in.

With a smile on her face, Kate took a knife and sliced into the cake she had been working on the past week, and heaped a generous slice onto Dustin's plate. "Well, who's next?" she asked. She did not run short on volunteers.

**Just to let you know, Dudley was not trying to be a jerk to Vernon, or trying to rub it in his face. He just didn't expect either of them to show up.**

**So what'd you think?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Just to let everyone know, I'm keeping everything nice and canon (other than the fact that Dudley has magical children). So, yes, everyone marries who J.K. says they marry.**

The rest of the party was a blast. Despite their best efforts, the mob of ten-year-olds could not finish the cake, even after several valiant efforts. There were a few minutes of moaning a stomach clutching, then after a sudden recovery, a few last, desperate attempts at organized games. The organized part was the part that gave the group trouble.

Finally, the parents began to show up, and Mrs. Bard took Mark home, leaving only Vernon, Petunia, Teddy (still trying to conceal his hair color), Harry, James, and the Dursleys. Vernon seemed to realize this, gave Dustin a quick pat on the head, mumbled some excuse about needing to get home to do some work, and made for the door. Kate stopped him halfway and insisted that he and Petunia take home some of the remaining Hogwarts cake. Vernon gave a surprisingly vehement "NO!", and then grumbled, "We've got enough to remind us about that _place_ as it is." He left with Petunia.

This left only the Potters, the Dursleys, and a Lupin. Dudley insisted that in order to be a good host, they would have to give the remains of the cake to Harry. Harry, of course, said that he wouldn't want to take what Kate had put so much work into, and that the Dursleys should keep it. Dudley insisted that Harry take at least half. Harry declined, telling him that half was still a massive portion. Teddy looked at the still substantial ruins of the cake appraisingly. James hugged his father's leg and begged for Harry to take home the cake. Dustin collapsed on the couch exhausted, while Sarah simply looked at the adults, bored.

This continued for several minutes, until James threatened to burst into tears. Harry took Dudley aside, and they craftily agreed to a most delightful scheme. They each took approximately one-eighth of the remaining cake, and forced the 'unfortunate' Teddy to take the rest. He was ecstatic. After waving goodbye, and promising to stop by the next week, Harry, James, and Teddy left.

The next week, frankly, was quite boring. It was the first week for Dustin back at school. It was a perfectly average week at work for Dudley, but Kate was bored without Dustin there and had started inventing new recipes. In general, they were pretty good, with the exception of Thursday night, which Kate made Dudley swear never to tell anyone of. Her reputation as a cook depended on it.

Harry stopped by again on Saturday, for another delightful story telling session. This week he talked about all the marvelous kinds of candy, more about Quidditch, and even a brief overview of important wizarding history, stopping about sixty years before present day. After an hour of this, he tapped his watch, and got up.

"I've got to go; I promised Ginny I'd be home by 12:00. But don't worry; I'll be back next week." A sudden inspiration struck Dudley, and he too arose.

"Harry," he asked, "Why don't you and Ginny come over for dinner sometime? You can bring your kids if you like,"

"That sounds great!" exclaimed Harry, "How's Thursday?"

Dudley looked at Kate, who nodded. "That sounds fine!" he replied.

"I'll see you then!"

As always, the days passed quickly until Thursday. Dudley was particularly stuck at work. He couldn't think of a single ad. Dustin was very bored at school. They didn't really start doing anything until November, at least that's what Dustin said. Kate introduced Sarah to the art of the kitchen. She wasn't quite as adept as Kate, but it was something to do while her brother was gone.

Dudley arrived home on Thursday night. Kate was in the kitchen. She was preparing one of her new inventions. Dudley sidled in and gave her a peck on the cheek, which was reciprocated. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Slow," he replied honestly. "Yours?"

"I played with Sarah. She has quite the imagination, and I don't think Harry talking about this world of wizards is really helping." She smiled. "It's kind of strange, isn't it? To think that witches and wizards actually exist? And that our children are two of them?"

"Yeah," Dudley agreed, pensive. "But it must have been so much stranger for you. I at least knew they existed for many years." They lapsed into a comfortable silence. "What're you making?" Dudley asked.

"I didn't know if the Potters were bringing their children or not, so I decided on a special chicken soup I designed." Dudley peered into the pot. It did indeed look like something kids would at least consent to try, and the smell was divine.

Dustin walked into the kitchen. "I knew I smelled chicken," he said. "It smells good." He walked to the pot and wafted the steam to his nose, then sighed happily.

"How was school?" Dudley asked.

"Okay," Dustin replied. "I told Mark I was going to a private school next year. He was sad for a couple minutes, but, well, you know Mark."

"He decided to make the best of the time remaining and was bouncing off the wall the rest of the day," chortled Dudley. Sometimes he didn't understand how such a boy as calm as Dustin could be friends with the most hyper kids in the school.

As Dudley left the kitchen however, there was a loud crack, and a frenzied knock on the door. As Dudley went to answer it, he wondered what was going on. Harry hadn't arrived by apparation since he bought a car, and normally he used the doorbell.

He opened the door to see Harry, slightly frenzied. "Dudley," he said, grabbing both of Dudley's shoulders. "We're not going to make it for dinner. Yaxley, the secret-keeper for the last Deatheater hideout just died, so we got Dolohov to tell us the location before they could change headquarters. This is the last group of Deatheaters not in custody, so I have to go now!" He removed his hands. "I'm sorry," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Wait, Harry!" shouted Dudley, as Harry turned his back to leave, "You'll be alright, won't you?" Harry clenched his fists then took a deep breath.

"Of course," he replied shakily. "I'll be fine."

And with that, he disapperated, leaving behind only cold and fearful silence.

**Mwahahahahahahaha! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Yippee!!!!!!**

**One hundred reviews!**

**Sniff, Sniff You guys are so great!**

Dinner was naturally a subdued affair. Everyone was worrying about Harry. Even Sarah realized that the situation was serious, and decided to pipe down about the wizard prince knight who had saved all of her dollies. Dudley found himself jumping at every sound. He continually glanced at the clock, only to remind himself that Harry could not possibly have finished the siege in less than half an hour. As a matter of fact, he didn't know nearly enough about the wizarding world to even prepare an estimate as to how long it would take. As always, when the mind is left with little information and endless possibilities, Dudley's imagination ran away with him.

For Voldemort to have been so powerful, he must have had legions of Deatheaters! Maybe they were all there! Maybe the house had magical defenses that could kill Harry before he even got near the Death Eaters themselves. Maybe they had dragons defending the house! Harry had told Dudley during one of the visits that some of the older wizarding families had dragons guarding their vaults; maybe their houses were guarded as well. He was sure that the Deatheaters would be using illegal curses Harry would shudder to even thinking of using. Oh, if only Harry wasn't so noble, and would protect himself in any way possible!

After dinner, Dudley ascended to his room, and without anything else to do, he began to pace. He paced for hours. At times, Kate would come in and try to comfort him, but her words were hardly any help at all. He tried to distract himself by reading, but found himself staring at a book without even attempting to read. He tried to watch television, but all the violence hardly helped. He even went to the basement and got out his old set of dumbbells. He could swear that they had gotten considerably heavier, but they did not help either. Dustin commented that he hadn't seen Dudley so worried since Kate was in labor with Sarah.

It was almost midnight, and Kate was asleep, as were Sarah and Dustin. Dudley had resorted to reading one of Dustin's books, so that he could understand it easily, and not have to think about what it was saying. He knew exactly what kind of wild imaginations thinking would leave him to right now. The book was unfortunately getting to the part about the villain, which reminded Dudley of what Harry was up against. He shut it and began once again to wear the furrow in his carpet down, by pacing.

Then, as Dudley heard his old grandfather clock downstairs chime twelve, there was a loud crash outside. Dudley flew to the window to see Harry's car, with one of its headlights crunched on the neighbor's tree. A man got out, pointed his wand at the headlight, which magically repaired itself. The man swished his wand and the car levitated about an inch off the ground, backed up, swung forward, and landed in the Dursley's driveway. Dudley crashed down the stairs, not caring who he woke. There was a knock at the door, which Dudley ripped open. Harry stood there, slightly pale and tired, but entirely whole and unhurt. Dudley immediately took him into a crushing hug. Harry groaned. Dudley quickly released him.

Harry moaned, rubbing his ribs. "Hey, Dudley," he said. "And next time, make sure I'm unhurt before hugging me."

"Sorry," apologized Dudley sheepishly. I was just so glad to see you were alright. How was the mission?"

Harry sighed. "As well as could be expected," he answered. "Two casualties, Greyback and…Sheppard." He came in and flopped down in one of Dudley's chairs with a grunt.

"Oh," replied Dudley. "Were they Aurors or Deatheaters?"

"Greyback was allied with the Deatheaters, but Sheppard was an Auror. He was getting on in years though, and I think his mind was starting to go. He ran straight up to the house without even looking for any opposition. The Killing Curse got him immediately."

"I'm sorry," replied Dudley.

"It's okay, I'm used to dealing with death," said Harry, somewhat cynically.

"How is…er…Ron?" Harry had mentioned that Ron was an Auror during one of his visits. Dudley didn't know if he had gone on the mission, but if he had, it was probably polite of Dudley to ask how he had fared.

Harry gave a shaky laugh. "I swear he downed a cauldron of Felix Felicis…luck potion," he added, seeing Dudley's blank stare. "Anyway, the owner of the house, probably Avery, had these two house-elves. House-elves have very powerful magic, but they have to do what they're masters command, so Avery just ordered the two of them to attack. Anyway, Ron's wife, Hermione, is a real house-elf activist, and Ron really likes them now, so he had to rescue them. Dawlish managed to stun one, and Ron hit one of the others with a sleeping charm. Still, they were out in the middle of the battlefield, and curses were flying everywhere. There was no way that they wouldn't get hit by one of them." Harry paused, and took a deep breath. "So he ran out into the middle of the field, picked both of their little bodies up. The Deatheaters didn't like to see him running off with two of their stronger defenders, so one of them cast a Killing Curse straight at his back." Dudley inhaled sharply, but Harry gave a weak smile and shook his head. "One of the newest Aurors, on her first mission, I think, noticed the curse flying at him, and knew that nothing could stop it or warn him quickly enough. So, she just did some of the quickest wand-work I've ever seen, and stunned him. He fell over, and the curse missed by inches. I've got to remember to get her an award or something." He fell into a state of contemplation for a moment.

"So no one else was hurt?" ventured Dudley.

"Plenty of others were hurt," said Harry, "just none of the injuries were permanent. Even I was hit by a vomiting charm,"

"And that's why you're so pale," filled in Dudley. Harry laughed.

"I'm sorry about missing the dinner," apologized Harry. "But perhaps we can reschedule it?"

"Oh, it was unavoidable. I think capturing dark wizards is a reasonable excuse for missing dinner. I think we're all free next Thursday night too. I'll have to check with Kate though, she's the one with all the memory storage," chuckled Dudley. "I can go wake her up if you want."  
"No, just tell her I came by in the morning. I should probably get home. After such a traumatic night, Ginny probably is worrying about me right now." He heaved himself up. He put a hand on his stomach as he straightened, and winced in pain. "Those vomiting charms really should be counted as Unforgivable," he laughed, and waved goodbye. He slowly limped out the door, both hands still on his stomach. He got into his car, and backed into a light post. Dudley shook his head and chuckled, then closed the door and crept upstairs. He quietly slipped into bed next to Kate. Her face looked as if she was being tormented. Dudley stroked her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Harry's fine." He face relaxed, he she let out a contented sigh. Dudley smiled, utterly at peace, and drifted off to sleep.

**See?! I wouldn't kill Harry off! Why would this story be sorted as a Harry/Dudley story if I killed Harry really early? Anyway, reviews are totally awesome!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Authors Note: I'm sorry everyone. Last chapter, there was a bit of confusion. After Harry returned from the mission, he returned to Ginny, to comfort her and assure her he was okay and such, then realized Dudley must be worrying too, and quickly drove over. He left because he thought Ginny might start worrying again.**

**Reviews please!**

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Harry did not come the following Saturday. Dudley hadn't really expected him too, with the traumatic week he had had, but it came as a blow nonetheless. Dudley, Kate, Sarah, and especially Dustin had come to look forward to these visits. When Harry didn't turn up, Dustin decided to go over to Mark's. Sarah decided to make up her own wizarding history and act it out for Kate and Dudley. It was quite entertaining at times, and Dudley got to have a good chat with Kate (Sarah seemed to be more concerned with the entertaining herself part of her presentation, and didn't really seem to care if her parents were watching).

"I don't think it's really sunk in yet," said Kate quietly, as Sarah cast the 'Fairy Dancing Spell' on herself with an imaginary wand. "I didn't realize it until I began to think about why I was sad Harry didn't come." She wasn't making much sense to Dudley, but he said nothing, and she continued. "I was disappointed at first, because I wanted to hear more of the story." She leaned her head down onto his shoulder. "You see? Right now, to me, it's all just a story. A really big, unlikely story. I've seen Harry do magic, and I think that I recognize that it exists, but to be a part of it? It's just a different idea. I just hope it'll sink in by the time Dustin heads off to Hogwarts. It's like when we met for the first time, remember, in Penzance? You were visiting for witness protection?"

Dudley's heart seemed to chill as he remembered the only lie he had as of yet told his spouse, and not yet revealed. The summer Harry left, Dedalus and Hestia had taken the Dursley's to different villages, moving every week or so. Penzance was one of them. Kate lived there, in the village. Dedalus and Hestia had let the Dursleys wander around. They recognized how they would not reveal any vital details about themselves and that being trapped inside a safe house with two of "them" would probably drive him insane. Dudley didn't really have a problem with Dedalus or Hestia, or really and problems with wizardkind in general, but he appreciated the fresh air, especially at Penzance, which was near the sea.

He remembered his first meeting with Kate rather well. It was his first day in Penzance, and he was having breakfast in a diner. He could have made meals himself, but doing something as ordinary as eating in a diner, instead of a dark, cold, bunker, almost made him forget that he was on the run from the most dangerous person in British history. He was looking through the menu, and finally settled on one of their omelets. He had decided upon it because it had small pieces of bacon in it. It was strange that he remembered that. Dudley supposed that he only remembered the exact meal because of the person who served it to him. He set his menu down, and waited for service. A minute or two later, the doors to the kitchen swung open, and from them emerged the most entrancing woman Dudley had ever seen.

She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, nor was she the most charming. It was something about the way she held herself, about the easy going smile on her face, her light manner spoke to him what the beauty of any other girl did not. She flipped the cover off of her order notebook, and began to take orders. She laughed at the witty remark a patron asking for some kind of eggs, and Dudley felt a sudden, irrational wave of jealousy. But then the order was over, and she was walking towards him. Dudley forgot what he wanted to order, and started fumbling with his menu. He could not talk to the wonderful girl walking towards him, he needed time to prepare. Maybe another witty remark, like the other gentlemen, but his brain seemed to stall as she came close. She had to be less than two feet away, and Dudley's palms were shaking nervously, when a voice came from behind him. "Whaddyer want, hon?" Crushing defeat washed over Dudley as he turned his back and saw his grim fate. Another waitress, a crotchety old woman with a wrinkled face and short, curly, red hair looked at him. He mumbled his order, and watched the girl's back hopelessly.

He spent the rest of his meal slowly and deliberately chewing his omelet. It was average diner quality. As he chewed, he mentally prepared a speech for this amazing girl. He didn't know when he would deliver this speech, or why he even why this girl fascinated him at all. Dudley had had girlfriends before. Before his fifth year at the school, his much feared group could get almost any girl they wanted, and the ones they couldn't get were the ones that they didn't want anyway. His muscles and power had attracted all the girls he needed. He had naturally assumed that if any of the girls he liked would fall for him because of his strength, and influence in the school, then all girls worth liking would too. After his fifth year, he obviously had to do some reflecting, but at the time he was too busy thinking about his own problems to even try to get any relationship. He hadn't ever had a girlfriend since his fourth year in Smeltings. Of course, he doubted that even if his entire group of bullies accompanied him here, this girl would be impressed. She didn't strike him as that kind. The crotchety old woman brought his meal out, refilled his water, and did everything for him. He didn't even get a chance to talk to the object of his attentions.

But then, the tobacco industry did for Dudley the nicest thing any company in all of Britain had ever done for him. The old woman got a sudden craving, popped her head into the kitchen and told someone to cover her. Then she went outside for a smoke.

The stunning waitress with the blondish hair was walking towards Dudley again. This time, he knew better than to get his hopes up. She was probably just going by to the obese man with the child, or to the old woman in the corner. Then, miracle of miracles, he heard her footsteps stop, and saw her hands reach out to take his now empty plate. He looked up, surprised.

"Hi," she said, smiling. Her voice was ten times more beautiful when she was talking to him. "I'm haven't seen you around here. Are you new?"

"Oh, yes, I'm Dudley Dursley. I'm visiting from London. I'll just be here a month or so." If Dudley could have stared at his own mouth, he would have done so. He was amazed at the words that had popped out of it. Unfortunately, at this point his mind took over. "I'm just, you know…er…here for…like…you know…a…er…break." He mentally slapped himself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Dudley, I'm Kate Winthrop." She held out her hand, which Dudley timidly shook then she headed back into the kitchen. Dudley was alarmed for a minute, but she soon returned with a damp rag. "Seems like a bad time to take a break though. A month off, right after school's begun?"

Dudley inhaled quickly, as she went to fetch the bill. He had to come up with a suitable lie, and quickly. "Well, you see, it's not really a vacation."

"Oh?" she asked, as he withdrew his wallet.

"I'm here for…witness protection. I'm not really in any danger, because it was my friend who was a witness, and even he probably isn't in any danger at all, but just to be safe, they have me move around every once in a while." He realized he was beginning to ramble, and stopped, committing this lie to memory, in case he was ever asked again.

"Well, now that's very brave of you." Kate commented.

"It's nothing much," said Dudley, beginning to flush. "Besides, I have full confidence in who they have after him."

"Still, I'd be scared out of my mind! Especially with all these strange goings on. Have you heard? Hurricanes, perfectly sound bridges collapsing, people falling dead with no cause but looks of fear on their faces?"

Dudley nodded, half-listening. "In any case," continued Kate, "It was very nice to meet you, Dudley."

When she said his name, it gave him some sort of inner courage, to do what he had been thinking of since the beginning of the conversation. "Listen, Kate," he began. "I was wondering…" she nodded, bidding him continue. "I am going to spend about a month here, and it'll be a very boring month if I don't have anything to do so, maybe… Couldyoushowmearoundsometime?" Dudley flinched, just hoping she had understood.

Kate looked surprised at the speed he could force words from his mouth, but understood him perfectly, and gladly told him, "That sounds like great fun, why don't you tell me where your house is and…wait, you can't can you…hmmm... here." She pulled out a napkin and scribbled an address. "Meet me here at eight' o'clock." Dudley took the napkin with the utmost reverence. After thanking her very much, he stood up, put down a few pounds and a generous tip, (Which he had forgotten would go to the old woman with red hair) and left the diner.

Kate had not changed much since that day. Her hair had darkened a bit, but she was still essentially the same woman. Dudley knew that she would not be mad at him for lying. It was, after all, a long time ago, with reasonable cause. He just felt a little guilty for not revealing the truth earlier. "Remember that, Dudley?" Kate asked him. "I don't think I actually acknowledged that you would be leaving until about ten minutes before you left. I'm just glad I had the sense to give you my phone number." She laughed.

"Most valuable number I've ever written down," Dudley told her. "Listen, Kate, there's something I need to tell you." She looked at him expectantly, as Sarah had a spell put on her by an imaginary wizard, which made her go to sleep for a very long time. "I was never actually in witness protection." Kate looked shocked, but said nothing. "I…er…was on the run from an evil wizard named Voldemort."

"You were on the run from an evil wizard? Why, Dudley, that's even more dangerous and brave than witness protection. I'm amazed you even had the courage to go outside. Why was he after you?"

"Well…a long time ago, there was this wizard, I think that I once heard Harry say that his real name was Tom…Ruddle. Anyway, so he er…went evil, for some reason, and he heard this prophecy and…" Dudley realized for the first time just how incomplete his knowledge on the subject was. "Tell you what, next time Harry comes, I'll ask him to tell you. His knowledge on the subject is much more complete."

"That sounds wonderful," said Kate, and she laid her head back on Dudley shoulder, right as their daughter had a spell cast on her by a fairy, and woke up from her eternal slumber.

"Ta Da!" she yelled. Dudley just chuckled.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**I'm sorry, I would have had this chapter up earlier, but a huge chunk of writing (a page or two) accidentally got deleted. Reviews, please.**


	11. Chapter 11

On Sunday evening, Harry called to apologize. He said that he remembered that he was supposed to come over, he just couldn't find the energy, or think of anything to tell them. Dudley assured him it was fine. Harry confirmed that he was still coming over Thursday night. After a few more pleasantries, they both hung up, and the week proceeded as normal, with two minor exceptions.

First, Sarah started daycare. It was only for a few hours a day and it was held at a little building less than a street down, but she was so cute with her big smile, and her little backpack that made Dudley tear up as he and Kate dropped her off for her first day. She appeared to be learning quite a bit. She said that she liked the blocks most, but then she also liked to play with the dolls. She also said that sometimes she wanted to play with the dolls in the little block houses she built, but none of the other girls wanted to play with her. Dudley bought her some good solid wooden blocks on impulse her third day there. She was delighted. One thing that she appeared to be focusing on in her school was autumn. She kept pointing out which trees had already lost all their leaves, and how it was getting cold. This, she confirmed in a serious voice, meant that it was really autumn. It was this that made Dudley realize just how much time actually had passed since that fateful walk in the garden.

Second, Vernon and Petunia visited again. They called on Monday evening to ask if they could stop in on Wednesday. Vernon sounded as if he was forcing the words out over the phone, but when he actually came over, in a few minutes, dialogue was as natural as it had ever been. True, he grimaced a bit when he noticed an old copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe lying out on one of the coffee tables, but other than that, dinner was a perfectly delightful affair.

Kate, fortunately, was not as concerned with the dinner on Thursday as she had been about the birthday party, but she still spent a good deal of time working on it. Dustin was working hard at school, and occasionally brought some friends over. Sarah decided to practice her reading, and was very determined to get it right. Dudley made sure that he and Sarah read to her as much as she wanted.

At his work, Dudley was beginning to remember why he took the job in the first place. It had been Kate who had first helped him realize it, but he did know how to get into peoples heads. Of course, now he simply advertised to them, instead of pounding their faces in like before. He had thought of some new ads that the public was taking fairly well. He even had an idea for another one, which could possibly be his biggest yet.

All was well on Thursday. Dudley purposely left early from work to get home and help prepare. Dustin and Sarah were both reading on the couch as he arrived. Dudley grinned. That was one interest they had both inherited from their mother. Dudley called for a clean-up, and after some coaxing and a few threats, both Dustin and Sarah put down their books, and Kate emerged from the kitchen. There were a few minutes of cleaning, then the oven timer rang and Kate dashed into the kitchen. The house was organized enough, and Dudley let the kids go back to reading.

Approximately twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Dudley coughed nervously, and got up, walking to the door. Suddenly, he hoped that the Potters hadn't been expecting any kind of formal dinner. His own plaid shirt seemed fairly coarse, and uncivilized.

His fears were unfounded. Harry was wearing some kind of golf shirt that Dudley suspected he had bought for the occasion. Beside him stood a very beautiful red haired woman with a compassionate smile, a pleasant dress, and a toddler in her arms.

"Hello, Dudley," said Harry. "Good to see you. Oh, by the way, my wife, Ginny," he introduced, putting his arm around her shoulder, "My son Albus, and my daughter Lily. You've already met James."

Ginny switched Lily to the other arm, and shook Dudley's hand with. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"The same to you," he replied. "Would you come in?" He showed them into the sitting room. Kate finally emerged from the kitchen.

"Dinner's almost ready. It'll be maybe half an hour."

"Would you like a seat?" Dudley asked. The Potters accepted, and Kate returned to her post by the oven. As Dudley sat down, he finally got a good look at all of Harry's descendants. James had hair of very dark red. His eyes and nose definitely came from his mother, but there was grin of mischief that came from Harry on his mouth. Dudley had almost never seen that grin, and it was very calming to know that Harry's children were having a better youth than he had.

Next, he turned his attention to Lily. Her hair too, was red, but of a lighter shade than her brother's or her mother's. Her face was dotted with little freckles. She, too, had her mother's eyes, but her face was more like her father.

Finally, Dudley took a good look at Albus. Dudley had deliberately saved him for last, because from what he saw at the door, it was Albus who would bring the most memories. As he turned his gaze, he saw his assumption was correct. Albus did indeed look like his father at that age. He had the messy black hair, the mouth, even the ears. His most discerning feature however, was his eyes. They were the exact shape and color of Harry's. They were thoughtful and reflective, much more than those of most boys his age. As Dudley looked at him, it almost made him cry. _"Twice in one week,"_ he thought, "_I'm really getting old."_ He hoped with all his heart that Albus would have a better childhood than Harry.

Dustin and Sarah had put down their books, and were looking at the Potters too. "Sarah," suggested Dudley, "Why don't you play with James and Albus?" Sarah sighed in resignation and stomped over.

"I don't want to play with her!" yelled James, "I want to play with Dustin!" He looked up admiringly at the older boy.

Dudley and Harry both glanced at Dustin, who nodded. "Okay," he said, "I think I have some fun games in my room."

Sarah grabbed Albus's arm and began to pull him along. "Sarah!" lectured Dudley, "Be gentler!"

Sarah let go of his arm, but gave Albus an angry glare. "Now then," she began, "We can play whatever you want, but you can't throw my dolls. You can't colour on my pictures either, and don't say that dragons come and eat me either, because they don't! Don't make my dolls…"

"Be careful," muttered James in a carrying whisper as he passed on his way upstairs. "She's really bossy,"

"I'm not bossy!" exclaimed Sarah. "I just don't want you to do what he did!" She pointed at James's retreating back.

"I don't play like my brother," said Albus softly, seeming slightly insulted. Sarah looked doubtful, but they went downstairs anyway.

Harry and Ginny talked with Dudley for ten minutes or so, when Lily got bored sitting on her mother's lap and started to cry. Ginny quickly excused herself, leaving just Harry and Dudley.

"They're cute kids," said Dudley. "I remember when Sarah was that little. Hard to think it's already been two years."

Harry sighed, looking to the direction Ginny had just left. "I don't think there's a thing in the world that could make me happier right now."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute or two, when Dudley remembered part of the reason he was so excited for the dinner in the first place. "Harry…" he ventured. "The other day, I told Kate about how I wasn't really in witness protection. She wanted to know more, but I realized that I couldn't really explain it, my knowledge isn't complete. So I was just wondering if one time, maybe you could, you know…tell all of us your story?"

Harry sighed again, but this time, not because he was content. "I've been wondering when that would come up." He sat in silence for a moment. Lily began to cry again from the other room. "I'm more than willing to tell you, but it's not really a very good kid's story. I mean, there's a lot of death, and fear, and pain. Also, I'm afraid that I couldn't tell it without putting you in a bad light for your family." Dudley silently agreed. Harry sat thinking for a minute or two. "Okay, your kids tell you that they want to hear the story, and that I won't be scaring them too much, then I'll figure out a way to make them all realize how much you've changed, and how good of a person you are now. I'll try to make it less frightening too, but for kids who have personal experiences with dementors, it could cause a few problems." Dudley nodded.

Ginny entered again, with a much quieter Lily. "You don't mind if I let her run around, and go help your wife, do you?" she asked. Dudley told her it was fine, and she went off to the kitchen. She was a bit too late however; as Kate emerged with a big pot full of the soup she had designed last time. She had of course, thought about all of the ingredients and experimented a little, but it was still basically the same.

Dudley called together all of the children. Dustin and James descended from upstairs, with big grins on their faces. Dustin was a little wet for some reason, and Dudley hoped they hadn't made a mess. Albus and Sarah seemed to have had a much calmer time. As they arrived, they were both talking about a game they had played. It seemed Albus had refused to play dolls, but they had built some structure with blocks. When Dudley later inquired what they had done after that, they said that they had each used Sarah's dolls to act out some kind of stories. The next day, Sarah said what stories they had told each other, and by the way she described it, the stories involved a lot of pretend, or Sarah and Albus had more control over magic than he thought.

Once everyone was seated, Kate took everyone's bowls, and served them all soup. James looked a little suspicious at first, but then doubtfully tried it, and had three or four more bowls.

The soup was indeed delicious. Harry and Ginny both appeared to be enjoying it, and complimented it several times. Dustin looked as if he was trying his hardest not to simply pick the bowl up and drink from it. Dudley had to admit, it was tempting him too. There was the perfect blend of spices to awake the taste buds, but not overload them, or drown them in flavor. It truly was wonderful.

Albus and Sarah were still talking down near the end of the table, though they were both still eating lots of soup. Ginny was feeding Lily and herself. Harry started talking to Dudley about his job. Harry did not seem at all surprised Dudley had gone into advertising. James was abandoning all attempts at formality and was slurping wildly from his bowl. Dudley suspected he would have gone straight for pot if his parents hadn't been there.

During a break in conversation, Ginny leaned over to Dudley, and whispered in his ear. "Dudley, would Kate mind if I made a suggestion?" Dudley looked slightly surprised, but quickly answered.

"No, she likes to improve her cooking."

Ginny straightened and asked, "Kate, instead of garlic, have you ever thought of…oh, wait…of course not. Forget about my asking."

"No, I like suggestions!" answered Kate, "What were you suggesting?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you had ever tried shredded Boomslang skin, but of course you haven't, it's a wizarding ingredient."

Kate dropped her fork and stared at Ginny. "You mean wizards have secret ingredients?!" she exclaimed.

Ginny looked surprised, but quickly replied, "Well, yes, but they're usually only secret because they, or the animals or plants that give, them are very dangerous."

Kate turned to Harry. "Why didn't you tell me this?!"

"I guess it slipped my mind," he chortled.

Kate returned her attention to Ginny. "Well, there's only one thing to do now. You simply must come over sometime, and bring every ingredient I can legally use."

Ginny smiled at Harry then agreed. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Everyone got to know each other much better, and had a fun time. After dinner, Kate got out one of her classic puddings, of which everyone managed at least one plate of. By the end of dinner, everyone's belts were uncomfortably tight. Harry let out a contented sigh, and complimented Kate on cooking that could rival Mrs. Weasley's. "And without magic!" he added.

After dinner, the adult turned on some music, while the younger ones went to play. This time Lily followed after Albus. Once again, the grown-ups talked. Dudley and Kate were both curious as to the differences of living in the wizarding world, and how magic affected everyday life. After a short explanation, Ginny grimly told them that her father had forced her to ask them how D.V.s worked. Dudley was not sure if she meant T.V.s, C.D.s, or D.V.D.s, but decided to give her a short explanation of each. Then, in a stroke of brilliance, found the User's Manual for the television, and told her to keep it. She was grateful, as now she would have something to give her father, instead of actually remembering all Dudley said.

Before they knew it, it was dark outside, and Harry told Dudley that Lily would have to get to bed soon, or she would probably hurt someone. It was then Dudley put his ploy into action.

"Say, Harry, this dinner has been so fun, hasn't it?" Harry told him he was right. "I want to be able to remember it for a long time."

"So do I, Dudley," replied Harry.

"Hey, maybe we should _take a picture_?" said Dudley emphasizing the last few words. Kate realized what she was supposed to do, and ran upstairs to get the camera. Harry looked slightly confused, as Dudley was not a very good actor.

Kate returned with the camera. "Ready," she said. Dudley smiled winningly and extended his hand. Harry looked even more befuddled, as the shaking of the hand is traditionally only done when one greets another, not when one gives another a great dinner. Harry took it nonetheless, grinned and shook it. Kate snapped the picture. After a few minutes of getting all the children ready, Harry and Ginny said a final goodbye, and Harry said that he would be back on Saturday. With that, they all got into the new car and drove off.

Dudley took the camera from Kate. The picture had turned out well, and he grinned as he looked at it. This picture would soon become his most successful ad ever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**Hmm… I have a feeling that Dudley insurance agency will be getting a lot of …strange customers soon.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm sorry for the incredibly long wait between chapters, I've been out of the country and sick and stuff, so I didn't have much time for writing. I know it's short, but it's better than nothing!**

The hardest part of running the ad was getting his boss to go for it. Dudley had taken the picture of him shaking hands with Harry and put a little logo and slogan down in the bottom corners. It said something along the lines of, "We'll take care of you. Personally." Of course, it didn't really so much matter what the ad said as who was in it. His boss, being a muggle, did not know who Harry was, or why Dudley thought this ad would be so good for the agency. He didn't understand it at all. It seemed perfectly mundane to him. Finally though, on merit of his past ads, Dudley convinced him to put the ad up in one of the half-wizard, half-muggle towns Harry had told him of. The ad was simply a poster in the town center. It was sharing the board with some kind of toothpaste advertisement, and to the average person, it looked like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Of course, only half of the people in that town were what most people would consider 'normal'. Every day since that ad was published, Dudley had to fight his way through crowds of press and customers to get to his desk. The agency was so crowded, that even some muggles, who obviously had no idea what all the controversy was about, decided it must be good too, and they started to come. After the third day, a muggle news team even showed up, doing a story on the strange new popularity of the small town insurance agency.

Dudley didn't see much of all the wizards frantic to but what their hero had unwittingly endorsed, but they all seemed to be buying insurance there anyway. The Monday he returned to work, his boss remarked to him, "That guy in the ad, Barry Potter, or whatever they say his name is, he must be really popular with some kind of strange cult. I swear, who goes around carrying giant golden coins?" He slunk off, muttering.

The Saturday after the dinner, Harry came to visit. Crowds had been building at the insurance agency the day before, so Dudley was very tired, due to all the noise, but he managed to stay awake for Harry's visit.

Once again he saw Harry's car pull up into the driveway. Harry poked his head furtively out the window, then opened the door, and crept up the path to Dudley's door. Dudley opened it before he even knocked. Harry stepped in, then quickly closed the door. Dudley was slightly worried about Harry's unusual behavior for a second, but then Harry straightened up and clapped Dudley on the shoulder, laughing.

"Oh, Dudley," he breathed. "That ad, combined with the recent capture of the last Death Eaters, has caused me all kinds of problems."

Dudley laughed nervously then frowned. "I'm sorry to cause you trouble. I didn't expect quite this much publicity, and I thought that you know, maybe that by know…"

"Oh, it's no trouble Dudley. I usually have press trying to follow me around anyway. This is just big, because I've never endorsed a product before, and a muggle insurance agency is not the thing people expected me to support. You had George and little Fred in hysterics for ages. George kept saying 'So that kid with the big tongue didn't turn out so bad after all!'" Harry laughed and Dudley blushed.

"So, er… are you going to start your…story today?" Harry's face turned grave for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "I've thought about it, and I think I've come across a suitable version." He exited the doorway and made his way to the couch. Kate stuck her head out of the kitchen and noticed Harry. She called Sarah and Dustin from the upstairs.

"And Harry?" asked Dudley. Harry turned, and there was a moment's silence. Dudley gritted his teeth. "I'm ready for whatever you say about…well…you know…me."

Harry looked at him unfathomably. "Okay," he said. Sarah and Dustin reached the bottom of the stairs, and plopped themselves down on the couch. Kate took her customary seat, as did Dudley. Harry took a deep breath and sighed. "Alright," he said. "Now, I'm going to tell you a new story. It might be the last one in a while, but it's very long, so it'll take a while to tell it." He took another deep breath. "Once upon a time, well, only about twenty years ago, there was a certain boy. His parents had died when he was a baby, so he lived with his aunt and uncle and his cousin. They were all very mean to him."

Sarah frowned. "I don't like those people very much!" she stated matter-of-factly. Dudley felt as if he had been physically stabbed, but remained silent.

"The aunt and the uncle and the cousin weren't bad people, Sarah," said Harry, "The cousin was just spoiled, and he learned from his parents, so he thought it was okay to be mean to the boy. Even the aunt and uncle turned out to be nice people in the end, they were just afraid of the boy."

Sarah frowned again. "Why were they afraid?"

"I'll get to that in a minute. Anyway, one time, on Du-…the cousin's eleventh birthday, the boy was going to go over to a babysitter's, instead of going to the zoo. Then, something happened. The babysitter broke her leg, and the boy had to come to the zoo!" Sarah clapped. She loved it when anything good happened to people in a story. "Anyway, while the boy was at the zoo, some funny things happened," Dudley remembered this part of the story well. Harry continued with his story. Sarah and Dustin simply drank it all up, laughing wildly at all the funny parts, and gasping and sympathizing over the parts where Harry was mistreated. Dudley had to admit, Harry was a good story teller. His tongue only slipped up once or twice. He accidentally told them Uncle Vernon grabbed the letter from him, but fortunately neither Sarah nor Dustin realized that their Grandpa Dursley would be Harry's uncle. Other than that, the closest he got to revealing any names was when he quoted Hagrid. "Yer a wizard, Har…Harumph! Excuse me." He managed to pass it off as a cough.

As soon as he got to the part where the Dursley's dropped Harry off at the station, Dudley began to perk up. This was the last part he knew the story too, and he would like to hear what Hogwarts was like. He was, in short, astounded. He had never been to a school other than his primary school and Smelting's, and somehow, in his mind, he had always imagined Hogwarts like one of those. Years of never seeing the castle but knowing that Harry was there really left his mind to wander, creating an image that he thought seemed plausible. He had kept that mental image for years, and now Harry was shattering it.

It was not only what Hogwarts was like that surprised him, it was what Harry had to do there. What adventures he had had! He had never had anything like the daring hunt for the Philosopher's Stone at Smelting's. It was not until near the end of the story, where Harry was describing the fear the boy (he) felt as he walked to the mirror at the end, that Dudley realized that Harry had really done all of this. Harry was hundreds of times braver than Dudley. To think he was only eleven at the time. Dudley was speechless.

Harry finished his story. Sarah and Dustin clapped. Kate quickly joined in. Harry smiled and arose. "I really do need to be get home now."

"Awww," moaned Sarah, "Tell us more, Uncle Harry!"

Harry reached the door and waved goodbye to Dudley. "Of course," he said, "there are seven years at Hogwarts, and that was only one. Each one had more adventures than the last! I'll be back next week for another story!" With that, he stepped outside, and snuck back to the car. Sarah cheered.


	13. Chapter 13

**So, obviously I'm not going to go really deep into the description of each of the weeks that Harry visits. If you want to know more about what Harry tells the Dursleys, I happen to know some great books that describe what he says more in-depth!**

As tends to happen when a person has much going on in their lives, time flew. All the leaves were gone from the trees, and though the first snow had not fallen, it was impossible to argue that it was not winter. The frigid winds chilled to the bone, so most of the Dursley's free time was spent inside.

Dustin and Sarah continued with their schooling, and with all the extremely unpleasant weather, they both started to become avid readers. Sarah, of course was too young to read anything more advanced than some simple picture books, but Dustin was actually starting to read books a grade or two above the recommended level for his age. It made Dudley wonder if all those genes came from Kate, or if he possibly could have been smarter, given the opportunity.

Kate had virtually locked herself in the kitchen again, although she was not cooking. Dudley asked her what she was doing, but she only cryptically answered, "You'll see,"

Dudley had little time to wonder what she was doing though, as he was busy with work himself. The crowds and press had died down, but most of the wizards who had bought the "Harry Potter endorsed" insurance had little idea how it worked, or what they had to do, so the place was always full of robed people popping in to ask about little rules and regulations. Dudley's boss was more confused than ever. "They come all the way down here to ask if us if we use owls to mail the bill? Don't they know how to use a phone?"

The new popularity of the agency was spreading quickly. They really did have a good policy, and they did take care of the customer, so word of mouth was swelling like wildfire. The revenue for this month was about triple that of the previous one.

Harry visited again the next week. Once again he astounded and horrified Dudley with the tales of his adventures. It made Dudley woozy to think that Harry had been fighting evil wizards and basilisks when he was only two years older than Dustin. Compared to Hogwarts, even the most exciting day at Smeltings was droll and tedious. Harry, of course, didn't go into deep descriptions of any of the scary moments, (Sarah was only four), but Dudley got the general idea. Sliding down into some inescapable sewers containing part of an evil wizard's soul and a snake that could kill with a look was not Dudley's idea of exciting, but once again, Sarah and Dustin were thrilled with the story.

Kate came down with a cold that week. It was minor, but she refused to cook. She said she wasn't feeling up to it, and cooking was definitely the best way to spread the cold to the rest of the family. She did however; give Dudley one of her custom, easy-to-make recipes. He got right to work. As he was chopping vegetables, Dustin entered the kitchen, looking behind him, as if to see if someone was following him. He closed the door. "Hey, Dad," he ventured, "Can I ask you something?" Dudley put down the knife and wiped the spare celery bits of on his trousers.

"Sure, Dustin," he answered, "You know you can always ask me anything."

"Well, this sounds kind of stupid but…" He paused. Dudley waited expectantly. "Is Harry the boy from the story?" He blurted.

Dudley sighed. "What makes you ask that?"

"Well, for starters, he says that the boy saved Ginny from the basilisk, and he happens to be married to a girl named Ginny,"

"There are plenty of girls named Ginny," said Dudley, but it sounded lame even to him.

"But in the story, Harry said that Ginny had a brother named George, who was really troublesome and funny, and a brother named Percy who was really uptight, and kept all the rules. Then when the Potters came over for dinner, I heard Ginny murmur to James, 'As Percy would say, 'You're undeniably going down the Fred and George route,''" Dudley nodded, as if listening to Dustin's reasoning. It seemed to him Dustin had gathered too much evidence to be lied to.

"Secondly, Harry said that the boy was always annoyed because everyone always wanted to look at the distinctive scar he got when his parents were killed. Harry said he was an orphan, and if you look past his hair, he has a faint, but distinctive lightning-bolt scar."

"Thirdly, one time when was telling us what Ron said…"

Dudley conceded "Okay, okay. I admit, Harry was the boy from the story. You're very clever to have figured it all out."

"There was quite a bit of evidence," agreed Dustin modestly, "I just had to piece it together." There was silence for a moment. "So he really did all those things?" asked Dustin. Dudley nodded. "And then…you were the cousin?"

Dudley grimaced. "I'm not proud of it." There was a moment of silence, and Dudley turned back to his vegetables.

"I think…I think that it's alright," said Dustin somewhat quietly. "I think that Harry has forgiven you, and you have changed."

"And I'm truly sorry. And that's what truly matters." He put down the knife and pulled Dustin into a hug.

When Harry visited again, it was snowing for the first time that year. The flakes were light, and there was no layer forming on the ground, but it was certainly pleasant to look at. This week the mental adventure Harry took them on was as exciting as ever. Dudley watched Dustin. Now that he knew the truth, Dustin seemed even a little taken aback that the man in front of him was the one having all these adventures.

One thing that made the tale better than most stories Dudley had told people was that Harry was good at explaining his emotions at the exact moment of the story he was telling. Dudley knew that Sirius Black was Harry's godfather, and that he wasn't really a dangerous murderer, but Harry only gave the evidence that he knew about in his third year. He never once made Sirius Black sound better than what Harry thought of him during his third year until he reached the end of the year in the story, when he found out that Black was framed. Dustin, Sarah and Kate all seemed genuinely surprised that he was good.

After the story was over, Dudley pulled Harry over to the side to tell him that Dustin had figured out the true identity of the boy in the story. Harry sighed. "It was bound to happen," he said. "You've got a smart son." With that he bade them farewell.

The next week, Petunia came over to tell them that Vernon had acquired a bad case of gout, and probably wouldn't be walking around as much anymore. They arranged for a dinner later in the week, which went fine, other than Vernon muttering about how all he could eat now was "rabbit food".

The next time Harry visited, he had to stay for an hour and a half to finish his story. Harry tried his best to make it not as scary for Sarah and Dustin, but he still couldn't leave out the most grisly parts. When Harry told of Cedric's death, Dudley began to squirm with discomfort. He felt horrible that he had teased Harry about Cedric's death.

As soon as Harry's car vanished over the horizon that week, Sarah began to cry. Dudley and Kate tried to comfort her and ask her what was wrong, and all she told them was, "I'm scared... I'm scared… that Voldemort will come and…and hurt the boy!" Of course, there was little Dudley could do to dissuade her fears, seeing as Voldemort did hurt many other people before the story was over, and caused Harry unbearable pain. After fifteen minutes or so, Dudley convinced her that Harry wasn't mean enough to tell her scary story that ended badly, so things must get better soon. He silently prayed this was true, though he knew, at very least, that the next summer wouldn't be very pleasant.

Dudley called Harry up over the week to tell him about Sarah. He obviously couldn't see Harry, but imagined the grimace that he gave when Dudley asked him if the next week would be as scary. "I'm afraid so," he said. "But even though the ending is sad, it isn't quite as suspenseful." Dudley told him that it would be alright, he could help Sarah deal with it.

Sarah was grim and solemn as Harry arrived, but she told him that she was ready. His story this week began with the memorable summer, in which he and Dudley had been attacked by dementors. Sarah and Dustin gasped, they remembered their unfortunate experience well, and could empathize. The story continued, and became darker than any previous parts of his tale. When Harry told them about the time when the boy had been punished by the horrible woman, Harry's hand involuntarily tightened, and faint scars in the shape "I will not tell lies" stood out against the back of his hand. Dudley was the only one sitting next to Harry, and thus the only one who noticed. He rubbed the back of his hand nervously.

The account was indeed darker than any previous, especially at the end, with the death of Sirius Black. Harry did not try to skirt around the fact of his death, or try to wave it off as insignificant. He described how the boy felt, and his different stages of grief, and finally the comfort of his friend Luna. The story had been sad and scary, but it ended on a hopeful note. Once the story finished, Sarah declared that Luna was the best character, and asked Harry if she could meet her someday. Harry grinned and told her maybe he could arrange it.

That week, Sarah asked if Albus could come over to play. Dudley was at work at the time, but Kate called him up and asked him if he knew Harry's number. He gave it to her, and she called Harry and asked him if Albus could come over. Harry said that Albus would be more than happy. When Dudley got home, he asked Sarah about it, she said that they had had more fun than she did playing with anyone in her class. Later, after Sarah and Dustin were asleep, Kate told him that Albus made the perfect playmate for Sarah. She was not, as James had said bossy, but she was a bit strong-willed, and Albus knew exactly how to deal with that.

When Harry visited again, he warned Dudley beforehand that this section of the story ended with a death as well. Dudley sighed, but told him that now that he had gotten so far into the story, there was no good way for him to end it without telling the entire thing.

The majority of the story was far lighter, however, and at times downright funny. All of them laughed and laughed at Ron's unfortunate exploits with Lavender, and Sarah applauded when the boy finally kissed Ginny. The last part of the story was, unfortunately, truly terrifying. Dudley, who had never heard the story in its entirety, silently prayed that Dumbledore would survive, Bill would be unaffected by the werewolf attack, and Snape would make the right choice, and not kill Dumbledore. In two of the three areas, he was severely disappointed. Once again, Harry managed to end the story with an event that was sad, but not horrifying. The funeral sounded like a beautiful service.

Throughout the next week, Dudley's boss and coworkers kept commenting on how he was very distracted, and it was true. He silently wondered and hoped that all of Harry's friends would survive, that all of the Weasleys would remain unhurt, that the romance between Remus and Tonks would work out, that Harry would not have to go through much pain, that Hogwarts would not be destroyed, that Voldemort would be completely and utterly vanquished. These fears and others rushed through his head, disturbing his work.

Ginny called that week. She spoke a bit too loud, and tried to give Kate a piece of paper containing information by pushing it through the holes in the receiver, but overall, she used the phone fairly well. She told Kate that she was having a get-together with all the sister-in-laws, (Hermione, Angelina, Audrey, and Fleur) and asked her if she would like to bring Sarah and come. Sarah's preschool was already out, so Kate decided to go. She later told Dudley that they were all wonderful women, and that they had great fun. Ginny had also given her a packet of ingredients known only to wizards. Kate experimented with them throughout the week. She had never cooked with them before, so some of her tests were great, and some were disastrous.

Sarah said that her time at the Potter's was great fun, and there were all these new kinds of toys she had never seen. She also said that she had met Rose (who was very smart and she liked very much), Hugo (who was only Lily's age, and of course couldn't play with her), Fred (who was a year older than her and never took anything seriously), Molly (who she said thought she was too old to have any fun) Lucy (who was kind of like Molly, but more free-willed) and Dominique (who had a funny accent). She also said that it looked like Angelina and Fleur had babies with them, but she didn't really get to see them. Kate later told Dudley that their names were Roxanne and Louis. Sarah said that Rose and Albus were the most fun, and everyone else was a year or two older or younger.

When Harry came that week, it was for the last time. He told them that this week his story was going to take much longer than any before. It did indeed. He started with a description of the time he spent at the Dursley's that summer. He told the part about Dudley's apology exactly as it happened, and both Kate and Dustin both gave Dudley little smiles. Sarah cheered and said that now she liked the cousin more than Seamus or Dean, but less than Neville. The story of the flight from the Dursley's house surprised everyone. Dudley had not expected Harry to go on such adventures immediately after they left. Sarah laughed when she found out that there were going to be seven identical people all of whom looked exactly like the boy flying through the air. When the flight actually started however, her happiness swiftly declined. They were all frightened by the power and malice of the Deatheaters, and the rapidity of the escalating action. Sarah sobbed for several minutes when she discovered that Hedwig had died. Everyone else sat in a kind of numb silence, all of them knowing that this happened to the man right in front of them.

When Sarah stopped crying, Harry asked her if she wanted him to continue. She nodded, and said that she had to know what happened. The fast pace of the story astounded all of them, and as Voldemort showed up right next to the boy, there was an audible gasp. There was a moment of stunned silence when they thought Hagrid had died, but a sigh of relief when they realized he was alright.

The story continued, seeming to get more hopeless as every moment passed. The wedding was a welcome break, but it could not last. The story continued, at a slower pace, but exciting and scary nonetheless. Dustin gave a mirthless laugh when Harry said the boy stunned Umbridge at the ministry and Sarah gave a little gasp when Ron left, but other than that, the Dursleys were silent throughout the story. When Ron returned, there was a moment of relief, and more tension and fear as the Horcrux mentally tortured him. Dudley sympathized for his pain, but could not imagine what it was actually like. There was a moment of laughter as Harry described Hermione's reaction to Ron's return but nothing other than that. There were more silent tears as Harry told of the group's capture, and the torture of Hermione in Malfoy Manor. The death of Dobby caused shock, but now, all the deaths were just beginning to be a horrible statistic.

Breaking into Gringotts was exciting as well, and Kate gave an outraged, "Oh!" as Griphook betrayed the group. They were all impressed by the daring escape from underground, but none of them could anticipate the action to come. At a breakneck pace, the trio got to Hogwarts, alerted the teachers, disposed of Snape (with a quiet "Yes!" from Dustin), evacuated the students and prepared for the battle. There was a sharp intake of breath at the realization that the diadem the boy saw in his sixth year was really the last horcrux. Then, at Ron and Hermione's first kiss, a soft "Aww…" from Kate, a little smile and a nod from Dustin, and more applause from Sarah. With the death of Fred, Remus and Tonks, there were only hushed tears of disbelief. Then, the death of Snape, and the denouement of the entire story. That short memory changed everything, and jaws dropped all around. The beautiful climax, as the boy walked down to the forest, finally appreciating the gift his life was. The visit from the boy's parents, Remus, and Sirius, and their unvoiced support through the forest. Then with a flash of green light, it seemed to all that the story must be over.

There was only astounded silence, disbelief and denial for a moment. It was then

Dudley realized that the story could hardly end with Harry's death, considering Harry was sitting right in front. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Harry held up a finger to silence him. With an intake of breath, he began his description of what happened after.

Dudley was absolutely astonished, as was everyone else in the room. Dudley knew that Harry had come close to dieing, but not this close. His visit with Dumbledore was so clarifying however, that everything afterwards made sense. It was impossible not to believe him. It was then that the true bravery showed. Walking to the forest was brave enough, but to leave the place of blissful peace, not torn apart by war, only to go back to the middle a circle of enemies.

The rest of the story was astounding, but compared to those great acts of bravery, it was just a formality.

"That is not where the story ends," continued Harry, after describing the meeting in Dumbledore's office. "True, the war was over, and Voldemort was gone, but for the boy, life was just beginning. He later got married, had several kids, got a good job, and in the end, had a wonderful life."

There was a happy, peaceful silence for a moment, settling over the house like the heat from a warm fire. It was the first happy silence since Harry had begun the story that morning, and they truly knew that everything was alright.

They sat there for a moment, until Sarah quietly spoke up. "The boy was you, wasn't he Uncle Harry?"

Harry smiled faintly. "You've got a smart girl there, Dudley." Sarah smiled back.

**So, for the last part of this chapter my key left of the x was not working, and I couldn't type such words as amaing, or enith, or mae. It was most vexing.**

**Review please!**


	14. Chapter 14

Dudley stumbled along through the crowds of the train station, still dragging Dustin's belongings behind him

Dudley stumbled along through the crowds of the train station, still dragging Dustin's belongings behind him. The rest of the family tried to follow, but the swarming throngs could be very disorienting. Kate was holding a bag lunch for the train ride. Sarah, now six years old, was carrying Dustin's new cat, Prince. A whistle blew and a train chugged off, leaving behind a slightly acrid scent that tingled in Dudley's nose.

Two years had passed since Harry had finished his story, and it was now September 1st. Dustin was going off to Hogwarts for the first time, and Dudley had not seen him so worried in his life. With a smile on his face, Dudley recalled the events leading up to this day.

Harry had come by frequently ever since the end of his story. Albus and Sarah had become close friends, and about a year ago, Rose started to come to play too. They were all very nice to each other and had become perfect playmates. James had come along occasionally too, but he said he liked to play with Fred more. Dustin would have made more friends with the Potter/Weasely families if he had been a few years older or younger. He was caught in juxtaposition between Teddy and Victoire, the older ones, and Dominique and Molly, the two oldest of the "little kids". Overall, however, the entire Dursley family had formed a close friendship with the all the Potters and the wizarding community.

Then one day a couple months ago, Dudley had been preparing to go to work, and the children were just waking up, when Kate heard a rap on the window. Confused, she opened it. Like a streak of brown lightning, an owl flew in, swooped around and grabbed one of Kate's fresh rolls. She was quite distraught for a moment, until Dudley noticed a new letter resting on the pile of mail on the coffee table. It bore the Hogwarts seal. "It's for you," said Dudley, proffering it to Dustin. He accepted it with trembling hands, and opened the letter. He scanned the first line, then with a whoop of joy, jumped into the air and ran a victory lap around the table.

"What is it?" asked Sarah.

"I'm going to Hogwarts!" he exclaimed.

The next month was full of frantic planning. No one in the Dursley family knew where to buy a cauldron, unless plastic Halloween ones counted. Dudley contacted Harry who invited them all to a shopping trip in Diagon Alley. They graciously accepted. The trip to Diagon Alley was memorable, from the long-fingered goblins, to the unpleasant potion shop to Kate's unfortunate excursion down Nocturn Alley, to the purchase of Dustin's wand ("Nine and three-eighth inches, dragon heartstring, Pliable. Good for Transfiguration."). They returned with many books, a cauldron, scales, potion ingredients, cooking ingredients, a wand, and a new orange cat. Hermione had come on the trip and insisted that someone get that cat, because it was the same color Crookshanks had been.

Dudley finally managed to part the crowd and make his way to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. There was no Platform 9 3/4. Dudley's heart sank. He knew the platform was there, he just didn't know how to get to it, and if Harry was already inside, then they would have no way to get in. The rest of the Dursleys arrived behind him. They stood in silence for a moment.

"Maybe you have to tap the bricks, like in Diagon Alley?" suggested Kate. Dustin uncertainly withdrew his wand from his pocket. He was about to tap the first brick when a loud voice came from behind them. "Out of the way!" A pug-faced woman leading an only slightly more attractive boy barreled through the crowd and the Dursleys. As Dustin fell over he let go of his wand, but fortunately caught it before it hit the ground.

"What happened?" asked Dudley, pushing himself up. "I didn't see. Where did they go?"

"Through the wall!" exclaimed Sarah. "They went through it like it wasn't there!"

There was a moment of doubting uncertainty. "I don't know, Sarah," responded Dudley, "That wall looks pretty solid to me." Sarah sighed.

"Look," she said, "I'll show you!" and before anyone could stop her, she broke into a run and disappeared through the wall. There was another moment of surprise. Then a Sarah's voice came from through the wall, "Come on! It doesn't hurt at all!" There was silence again. Then Kate broke into a grin, and in a few steps she was gone. Dustin looked up at his father then followed them. Dudley groaned, gritted his teeth, and blindly ran through the wall. Like elevator doors opening, running through the barrier revealed a whole new world. Here there were more robed people, and some with pointed hats. Wands were no longer hidden, but out for all to see. Owls hooted, parents cried, toads croaked, and steam billowed up from the engine.

"Dudley!" called a familiar voice over the noise of the crowd. Fifteen-year old Teddy Lupin came rushing over to them. His hair was a pleasant turquoise today, a shade that it was become more and more often. He said that he was finally beginning to gain some semblance of control over it. Unfortunately, his ears had become ridiculously long and floppy for this occasion. He seemed not to notice these kinds of things anymore however, so no one offered a comment. "You arrived just in time! The train is leaving in five minutes. Here, I'll help you with the suitcases." He heaved one up above his head and moved off towards the edge of the platform the Dursleys followed him.

They got all of the luggage on the train before they noticed Harry he was standing about ten feet away, talking to Bill, Fleur and Victoire. He noticed them as well, and gave Bill a hasty goodbye before jogging over. "So, how do you like Platform 9 ¾?" he asked.

"It's simply wonderful!" exclaimed Sarah. "I can't wait till I get to get on the train!"

Harry grinned. "I knew a few people like that."

The train whistle blew. "All aboard!" yelled the conductor.

Dustin gave a frantic look to his father. Dudley quickly kneeled down to Dustin's eye level. "Alright, Dustin, don't worry about anything. We'll write you every week, or more, if you want. If you ever need help, we'll always be there. I'm sure if you're ever really in trouble, Teddy or Victoire will help you around too."

"Dad, the doors are closing!" yelled Dustin. Dudley looked and indeed they were. He gave Dustin a quick hug, and Kate did the same. Then, with a quick smile, he jumped onto the train. Victoire was already waiting for him and took his hand. She led him to an open compartment, so that he could stick his head out the window and wave to Dudley. With the sad smile of a parent watching their child take a major step away from them, towards their own life, Dudley waved back.

**I'm really sorry for the delay, and I know the chapter is really short; it's been a crazy week (or two). **

**Reviews, positive or negative, are always appreciated! **


	15. Chapter 15

Just to let everyone know, despite convention, I will not be following Dustin at Hogwarts, frankly because nothing exciting happens

**Just to let everyone know, despite convention, I will not be following Dustin at Hogwarts, frankly because nothing exciting happens. The Dursley family will still receive letters from him to tell about the major events, but I won't try to force a plot in where one does not exist.**

Dudley and Harry remained a few minutes after the train departed, talking quietly and thinking. Sarah began to get bored, however so they left. When they all arrived back at the Dursley house, Dudley wished he had left some lights on, or lit a roaring fire in the hearth, for the house felt as if no one had lived there for years. The draperies lay limp and lifeless, letting in only small rays of light through the spring clouds. The shadows hung in each room like they hadn't before.

Of course, Dustin had never been a particularly loud or energetic boy, and his presence didn't significantly affect the atmosphere of the house, but Dudley's mind made it so. He was moody and depressed that night, as if Dustin had moved out, and was never coming back. Kate and Sarah obviously tried to cheer him up, but he was inconsolable.

Later, after Sarah was in bed and Dudley was moping on the couch, the doorbell rang. Kate came from the kitchen to answer it, and revealed Vernon and Petunia standing on the doorstep.

"Mum, Dad!" exclaimed Dudley, quickly jumping to his feet.

"Hello, Dudley," replied Vernon, then after a moment, "Can't an old man get some rest around here anymore?" Dudley laughed and showed him in. After a brief, appraising look at the sitting room, he collapsed onto his favorite of Dudley's comfy chairs. He winced and held his foot.

"Gout still acting up?" asked Kate.

"Yes," Vernon grumbled.

Petunia stiffly took a seat next to him. She swallowed then said, "We just came over to say that we are very sorry we couldn't make it for Dustin's big day. Vernon had an important meeting, and I was visiting Aunt Marge. We will try to make it next year."

Dudley smiled at this simple, yet deep gesture of care. Kate put her hand over her heart. "Thank you," she said softly, "That's very sweet of you."

"Well," said Vernon gruffly, "He is our grandson after all; we should be there for him."

"Thanks, Dad," said Dudley, and for a brief moment, he forgot his sorrow at Dustin's departure.

Vernon and Petunia stayed a few hours. Sarah insisted that Petunia come and see something she did in school, and cautiously Petunia followed her out. Kate decided to follow, so that Petunia didn't somehow get hurt. Dudley and Vernon chatted for a while about almost every topic imaginable. Sports, cars, neighbors, neighbor's lawns, even politics took up the majority of the conversation. Finally, with an only slightly awkward hug, Vernon and Petunia left, limping off into the sunset.

As Dudley saw them go, he felt his heart lighten just a little more. He hoped that Dustin would write soon. At this prospect, Dudley realized that he had been very selfish the entire day. He had only thought about how he would miss Dustin, and how things wouldn't be the same back at home, for him. He had hardly given a thought to how Dustin was doing. He hadn't even considered what house he would be in. Considering Dustin's personality, Dudley had long ago deduced that he would probably be in Hufflepuff, but with all the reading and research he had been doing lately, Dudley began to reconsider. Now, any house was a possibility. Maybe he would be in Gryffindor, he was very brave earlier this year when he stood up to the schoolyard bully who was picking on his friend, and almost got beat up himself. Perhaps Ravenclaw, he was certainly smart enough, and his bookcase was huge. He had even demonstrated some ambition, a Slytherin quality, when he worked with Mark Bard to do an extra credit project. Dudley hoped he wasn't in Slytherin. He didn't have anything against ambitious people in general, but the way Harry had described it, it still had quite a few pure-blood supremacists. Of course, Dustin was a "mud-blood", so it wasn't likely he would be sorted there.

Dudley could not get to sleep that night; he was so excited for Dustin's first letter. He was also worried that Dustin would be so excited at his new surroundings that he would not even think to tell his parents what was happening. Or, reasoned Dudley, perhaps he would already have so much work that he wouldn't have time to send a letter. Obviously, Dudley was very tired, and his brain was not working properly. At about one' o'clock in the morning, Dudley woke up Kate to ask her how she could get to sleep without worrying. Kate groggily but patiently explained that he always the one who would tell them most about his day at the dinner table, and that he probably wouldn't stop just because he was far away, and that he could hardly be assigned tons of schoolwork if he only arrived at Hogwarts that day.

Dudley mentally slapped himself, and then finally fell asleep.

The next morning began with a subdued, but still pleasant breakfast. It was a Saturday, so Dudley was not going in to work. He did not have any plans at all. Sarah said that she wanted to play with Albus and Rose, so Kate had invited them over for later in the day. Dudley planned to rake the few leaves that had fallen in their lawn, then take a nice, long, leisurely walk, and wait for Dustin's letter.

After a chilly, but soothing walk Dudley returned home to find Harry was already there. He and Ron had come to drop off their children, but Kate had insisted that they stay and tell her how their lives were going. As Dudley arrived, he found that Ron was talking about a new piece of house-elf legislation Hermione was trying to get approved. He said that she thought this one was the gateway to all of her bigger ideas.

Dudley was about to greet Harry and Ron when the thing he had been waiting for hit him in the back of the head. Surprised, he yelped and twisted around, catching his foot in the rug and toppling to the ground. The stout barn owl dropped its letter. Harry shot out his hand to catch it, but fumbled and dropped it to the floor.

"It's been too long since you played Quidditch, mate," remarked Ron, bending over to pick up the letter. "Alright there, Dudley?"

Dudley dazedly picked himself up off the floor, nodding. The owl settled on Harry shoulder. "I know," complained Harry, "but we hardly have anyone to play with anymore! George is always too busy with the shop and little Fred, Charlie's still in Romania, and Ginny is always trying to control James, who insists to play Quidditch with the adults, and you always…Wait, Kate, got a Knut?" The owl was pecking the side of Harry's head. "Ouch, stop it!" he said, pushing the owl away with his hand.

Kate pulled out her purse. "Yes, I think…wait no…oh, here we go… or maybe not…that's a Sickle, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," said Harry, "but don't worry, I got this one." He pulled out a small bronze coin and deposited in a pouch on the owl's leg.

"Here," said Ron, handing Dudley the envelope. "It's from Hogwarts."

Dudley glanced around, then opened it slowly, careful not to destroy the seal. He reached inside and extracted a yellowish sheet of parchment. He unfolded it, and then read aloud:

_Hi Mum, Hi Dad._

_Hogwarts is so cool! I couldn't find anywhere to sit on the train, so Dominique showed me a compartment full of first-years. They seemed like friendly enough people. I really liked Jack Finnigan, he was really cool. Will Boot was nice too, but he was very smart, and a bit proud. The boy whose mother knocked us over at the station came in too. He said his name was Quintus Zabini, and he was so snobbish and cruel that we unanimously decided to kick him out of his compartment. He came back later in the ride with Rex Goyle and Julian Bassun, who are both really big and really stupid and are both older than Quintus, but fortunately, Teddy was stopping by to say hi when they were there. He dueled all three of them and still won!_

_When I got off, I heard the half-giant Hagrid calling for all the first years. He was so tall! He had a really giant beard too. We crossed over the lake, and we got to see Hogwarts. It was so amazing. Finally, they brought us in, and they brought out this old scorched hat. I was confused, until it started singing about how it would sort us, and I remembered Harry telling us about it. First they called Will Boot. He said he wanted to be in Ravenclaw like his father, and he was. When they got to me, I was so nervous I was shaking. Some of the older Slytherins were laughing at me. When I put the hat on, though, it started to talk to me. It said "Well, here's an interesting case. I could see you going into any house at all." And I said, (not out loud of course) "I don't want to be in Slytherin, they will just laugh at me." I could feel the hat actually nod on top of my head. It said, "Well, you have the brains for a Ravenclaw, and you're not afraid to stand up for what you believe in." It seemed to think for a minute, then it asked me, "Are you sure you have no preference, other than not being in Slytherin?" I said no, and then it yelled,_

"_**HUFFLEPUFF**__!"_

_As I was taking it off, it said to me, "Be sure you always remain loyal to everyone important to you," I was so happy, and I went to go sit with the rest of the Hufflepuffs. They were all very nice and pleasant to sit near._

_After that, they sorted Jack into Hufflepuff too, and he came and sat next to me. After a long time, they finally sorted Quintus into Slytherin (no surprises there). Then, the headmaster, Marcus Elihphile stood up and told everyone to eat, and when I looked down, all the plates were full of food! It was some of the best food I've ever eaten, (though I still like Mum's special chicken soup better) and there was so much of it! I was so stuffed, I almost cried when they announced there would now be desserts. I think I'm going to have to be more careful from now on._

_Then the prefects showed me down to the Hufflepuff common room, which was very yellow and full of comfy chairs, (Granddad Vernon would have liked it) Anyway, I'm sorry if you can't read this very well, I'm not yet used to writing with a quill! I have charms with the Ravenclaws in five minutes though, and I haven't finished breakfast, so I'm going to end my letter here._

_Love,_

_Dustin_

_P.S. I can't wait to learn my first spell!_

Harry arose from his chair and walked up behind Dudley, clapping him on the back. "I think your son is going to be just fine."

"Yeah," murmured Dudley, with a smile on his face, "I know,"


	16. Chapter 16

By the way, ultra bonus points and whatever you want to whoever can guess what Marcus Elihphile loves

**By the way, ultra bonus points and whatever you want to whoever can guess what Marcus Elihphile loves. Here we go!**

Letters from Dustin came about two or three times every week, and every time he wrote, Dudley and Kate replied as quickly as they could. It was always much harder for them to write back to him then they imagined it was for him to write to them, frankly because nothing was happening in their lives. He always had a plethora of events to relate in a paucity of parchment, and Dudley and Kate always had to try to cover the entire page with. "Dudley went to work. Kate baked a new meal and kept the house clean. Sarah went to school."

The lives of Dudley and Kate were slightly more interesting than it might seem, but they could never think of anything to tell Dustin. Sarah, on the other hand, always had lots to tell him, about how the new girl at school was kind of mean, and how she had accidentally used anti-itch cream instead of toothpaste one night, and how James had climbed on the roof of the Burrow (admittedly more exciting than other things she said), and usually required a sheet of paper to herself. Dustin seemed to at least find her writings entertaining, because he would sometimes ask about them in his return letters.

Dustin seemed to be doing well in Hogwarts, and he always had lots to tell them too. The first spell he learned was "_Flamarum!"_ which caused sparks to shoot out of his wand. He said that the spell was so basic that some of the people in his class had instinctively done in nonverbally. He had done it after a few tries, and could almost get it without saying anything now. Charms was still taught by old Professor Flitwick, and he said it was his second favorite class. His favorite was Herbology, though he said that was because of the kind, reassuring, Professor Longbottom, and he didn't actually like getting that dirty every class. Interestingly, (to Harry and Ron, at least) his third favorite class was History of Magic. He said that even though old Professor Binns was boring enough to kill one of the flies on the windowsill, he found the material rather interesting when he read it for himself. Transfiguration was taught by a new teacher this year, Professor Reeve, and she was very strict, but an exceptional teacher. Other than that, he only talked about his friends Jack and Will. He seemed to think very highly of them. Quintus, alternatively, had not redeemed himself. He remained stuck-up and conceited, and was always making rude comments about Hufflepuff as a house. Unfortunately, he was extremely good at avoiding teachers, or twisting his words so as not to get in trouble.

Dustin seemed thoroughly annoyed. At any rate, remarked Dustin in one of his letters, Quintus and his cronies had learned to stay away from Teddy.

Later in September, Dudley and Kate had parent-teacher conferences for Sarah. Her teacher, Ms. Woland, said that she was a very bright girl, and that she had never had problems answering a question, even if the material hadn't been taught yet. On a slightly more serious note, the teacher leaned towards Dudley and Kate and told them that Sarah was having trouble making friends. She said that at least a few of the girls in the class would be happy to befriend her, Sarah just wasn't trying. Later, when Dudley asked her why, she just said that she was happy without them.

Time passed immodestly fast. Already most of the leaves had taken their slow descent to the ground, and a chill breeze blew in from the coast. Before Dudley had time to get his bearing about everything, he realized that it was almost Halloween. He didn't realize it by himself; it was actually a letter from Dustin that informed him. Dustin told him that he was excited for the upcoming Halloween feast, and that Hagrid was already decorating the school. Even after that though, it took Dudley several hours to realize that Dustin would celebrate Halloween at the same time as the rest of the world, which meant that it was the week of Halloween already.

"So, Sarah," asked Dudley one dinner. "What do you want to be for Halloween?"

"I don't know," she replied. She was in one of her serene, peaceful moods, in which she didn't really care about all that much. "I can be whatever you want, it doesn't matter to me."

"A princess?" suggested Dudley.

"No," refuted Kate, "She outgrew that outfit, remember? A fairy?"

"No," Dudley countered, "Those old wings are broken, and I don't think we have anything to go with them anyway."

"A witch?" proposed Kate. At this, Dudley could think of no argument, and they both looked at Sarah.

After a moment of silent thought, "I don't think that it would be a good idea for me to dress up as a witch." She paused. "I don't need to dress up as what I already am." Dudley gave a caring smile.

After another short debate, it was settled that Sarah would be a ladybug. She agreed with this and said she was rather excited. She still had that tranquil smile on her face and didn't really look it, but Dudley knew she was.

The next day, Dudley and Kate took an old red bucket that used to house Dustin's toys and cut two holes in the side. Then they took large pieces of black cardstock and made the dots. Dudley bought an old yellow blanket and cut holes in it to make the ladybug's underside, and took some black sticks from the tree in the backyard to be extra arms. Sarah made the feelers for her to wear on her head.

Once Dudley was satisfied with the costume, they put it away, and Dudley wrote to Dustin, telling him how cute Sarah looked, and asking more about Halloween at Hogwarts.

On the morning of Halloween, Harry stopped by with a huge bag of every candy imaginable and gave it to Dudley. "You're going to need this," he said. Dudley tried to refuse it, but Harry insisted. When Dudley asked as to why, Harry only told him "You'll understand tonight."

Confusedly, Dudley went to work. Business had died down a little, giving him time to think, but he could not fathom why Harry would leave a giant bag of candy with him. That night, eager children in every attire imaginable set out for their lone missions. Kate took Sarah out for a little while, but she did not really care for all of the candy. They returned early, with a modest, but high-quality haul.

Many of the neighborhood children came to Dudley's door, and they were usually quite entertaining. Dudley's only concern was that to one group of children he accidentally gave several boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He hoped he wouldn't incur the wrath of their parents when they discovered an inevitable vomit bean.

After another hour or so, there was a loud crack through the night. Dudley hurried to the door, anticipating Harry's explanation of all the candy he left there. Then, something gave Dudley pause. There were several more cracks, and loud moaning and yelling of children. There was a loud shushing and near silence once more. Dudley crept towards the door more cautiously now. The doorbell rang. Dudley clenched the knob and jerked open the door.

"Trick or Treat!" screamed a mob of twenty or so masked children. Many of them had red hair, though there were some brunettes and two blond twins. Then they all yelled and began running around. Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys tried to silence them again. Children began lining up.

Dudley suddenly realized the purpose of the oversized bag and ran to get it. He then gave every single Weasley, Potter, and Lovegood there a copious amount. They took every last piece. Some of the Weasleys made as if to talk to Dudley and Kate, but Weasley kids in large groups are not to be ignored. After a little eye rolling and feeble attempts at rectifying order, the older Weasleys waved goodbye and grabbed their children and with several deafening cracks, they were gone. Harry and Ginny were last, with James, Albus, and Lily. Harry sighed, clapped Dudley on the back, repaired a hose hanger James had broken, and with a few more pleasantries, they all disapperated.


	17. Chapter 17

No one can guess what Marcus Elihphile loves

**No one can even try to guess what Marcus Elihphile loves? (with the exception of elliee.yeah Thank you for trying!) It's all in the last name, and the first "h" is there for a reason. Give me your guesses!**

Dudley got a letter from Dustin the next day. One of the tawny school owls they were familiar with flew in just after dawn. Kate was upstairs, and Dudley couldn't remember where the wallet with wizarding money was, so Dudley took a piece of bacon from his breakfast and gave it to the owl. It seemed content, for it soon after flew out the window. Dudley opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was written on the now typical yellowing parchment.

_Hey Dad, _

_Halloween here was great! There was another feast, and I think that this one was even better than the first one. There was sooooooooooo much food. The house-elves must have been working really hard (Don't tell Hermione). My Halloween wasn't as exciting as Harry's first one, but Hagrid had a bit too much wine and fell asleep on the table. He snored so loud that the entire hall shook! Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you in my last letter, but Teddy lost Gryfindor thirty points two days ago, because he hexed Casus Nott. He's this really annoying Slytherin seventh-year, but he was being really annoying, and he was making Victoire cry, and everyone says he deserved it, and no one is mad at Teddy. He's a bit of a hero actually. Did you know that the Wizengamot used to judge animals and beasts as well as people? They didn't even let the animals or beast get someone to defend them, the just judged the creatures themselves! I learned that from a History of Magic. I think it's really interesting. I know it's really early in the year, but I think I might take Muggle Studies next year, because all the stuff that the muggles do always affects wizard history, so I'd like to see if it worked the other way around. I'm really tired right now, so I can't remember anything else I wanted to tell you._

_ Write soon!_

_ Dustin_

Dudley smiled and went upstairs to give the letter to Kate. As he entered their room, however, he was somewhat surprised to find Kate down on her knees, whispering something in Sarah's ear. Sarah was smiling and giggling, but the second she saw Dudley she jumped about a foot. She then quickly marched past Dudley out of the room.

"What were you two talking about?" asked Dudley.

"Just an art project we were going to work on together," answered Kate coolly. "For some mother-daughter fun."

"What is it about an art project would make her jump like that?" Dudley playfully wondered out loud.

"Well maybe you'll see, when we show it to you on Friday, won't you?" she responded, in a similar tone. "Come though, what did Dustin say about Halloween?" Dudley quickly sat down and showed her the letter. They then both promptly wrote Dustin a response about their not exactly exciting, but certainly endearing and cute Halloween.

The rest of the week was fairly ordinary, with one small exception that confused and befuddled Dudley. Kate was spending more and more time in the kitchen, more than she ever had before, and once again she was only cooking part of the time. Sarah sometimes joined her in there (They had figured out some sort of secret knock) so Dudley suspected that at least part of the time was spent working on whatever "art project" they had thought up, but sometimes Kate was in there alone and not cooking. Dudley could tell from the lack of smell issuing from the kitchen. In addition, she would serve relatively simple, but still delicious meals, complete with appetizers and deserts, for dinner every night that week. What was perhaps even stranger was the way she hardly ate anything at the dinner table, just pulled out a notepad and wrote furiously. Every minute or so, she would begin to bombard Dudley and Sarah with questions. "Do you think that the lemon tends to cloy the taste in the pudding?" "Should there be less garlic in the spaghetti?" "Do you think grape juice would go better with that?" Every time, Dudley would give a compliment, after which Kate would tell him to be honest. After that, sometimes he would try to be helpful, but could never say exactly what could make the dish any better, making him feel slightly uncouth. She questioned Sarah too, but her questions to Sarah were simpler, like, "Is the special ketchup good?" "Do you like that?"

"Is this too sweet?"

Her behavior was becoming more and more perplexing to him, and so Dudley eagerly anticipated Friday. As happens when one is excited for something, time to Friday dragged on as slowly as a lion dragging a carcass to its den. However, work was still going well enough, so Dudley tried to occupy himself with thoughts of new advertisements.

Finally the day came. After work, Dudley came home, and was told that the project wasn't quite ready yet, and Sarah needed just a minute more to finish her part. He was also told that if he wanted dinner, he would have to get it himself. He couldn't enter the kitchen, either.

So, Dudley called his parents and went over to their house for a snack to tide him over till when he could make his own meal in his house. Petunia and Vernon were delighted to see him and let him fix himself a small meal. They were just as bamboozled as he was, though, when it came to what Sarah and Kate could be making back in that little kitchen. They made a few feeble guesses, then consented to just having to wait until she revealed it to Dudley. They also told him to tell them what the project was right after he saw it. After that, their conversations turned to other idle topics for a few minutes, until the phone rang.

Vernon answered it. "Hello? Yes, yes, we were just discussing it. No, no, no idea whatsoever. Alright." He paused, and nodded. "I'll tell him. Goodbye!" Vernon hung up the phone. "It's your wife. She says she's ready."

Dudley stood up eagerly. "Well, bye mum, bye dad. I'll be sure to call you." He went to the door, picked up his coat, and left. As he arrived home, Sarah took him by the hand and firmly planted him in his favorite chair in the sitting room.

"Stay here one minute," she said firmly. Dudley smiled inwardly at her serious demeanor. After almost exactly one minute, Kate emerged from the kitchen, carrying an easel with some kind of rectangular, poster board-like object on it. Dudley couldn't see what it was, for the entire thing was covered in a large piece of green felt. Sarah followed her, still very serious. Kate set the sheltered easel in front of Dudley, and inhaled deeply. Dudley was even more befuddled now, mostly because Kate had never been much of an artist, and she had never even expressed much interest in going to any museum or anything like that, but she now seemed very unsure of herself. She seemed to want Dudley's approval of whatever she had made very badly. She swallowed, and began what seemed like a prepared speech.

"I have actually been thinking of doing this for a long time, and I looked into seriously the first time a couple of years ago. I decided not to though, because the market was bad. Now, I've looked again, and the demand is up, so…um…without any further ado…" and she yanked the green felt off of the now exposed poster.

Due to his business experience, Dudley could see she had done research, and this was certainly very well done. He looked more closely at the revealed ad for "Dursley Catering" The ad was clearly divided down the middle. One half had a red, silken background, with images of Kate wearing a chef's hat in a white kitchen (which had actually been taken for fun in a photo studio several years ago), several scrumptious looking dishes, and people at a party socializing over a dinner table full of food. At the bottom was a list of sample dishes and a price list. "Very reasonable," it said. On the other half of the poster it was plain white, with pieces of macaroni glued all over it. There was a picture of Sarah playing with some of her friends near a table full of food from her birthday last year. Above that were some images of some fun looking dishes of all types. It was clear this half of the poster was Sarah's work.

"Ta Da!" yelled Sarah, a bit late.

Kate inhaled again. "What do you think? Do you approve? I mean I know it's a risk but I have looked into the market and everyone has always said that they like my cooking and…"

Dudley stood up and put his finger on her lips to silence her. "I think it's a great idea. I'd be willing to support you even if there was no market for food at all."  
Kate beamed. She looked at the poster, and her smile slipped a little. "I don't know if this is the best ad for it, or if it would really appeal to people but that's your business, so maybe, could you help me work on it a little?"

Dudley surveyed the poster again. "I'll admit it needs a little work," he said, "but you have many things going for you here. Like, here, it would look more appealing if you lowered this to 39.69€, instead of straight out 40€. These are the kinds of little things I would change. Other than that, everything looks pretty good. The only thing you need is a catchy slogan…"

Dudley stared at it for a minute and thought. He cocked his head and thought some more. Kate joined him.

"I can't think of anything," Kate admitted.

"I'm going to have to work on this a bit more," said Dudley, "but I'm going to get it."

**I know, a bit of a strange place to end, but I haven't actually thought of a slogan. Anyone have any ideas?**

**Also, anyone know if Dominique Weasley is a boy or a girl? I kind of thought he was a boy, but the name can go either way. I've seen lots where he is a girl, but I think that's because some people are biased. I'm not, and I'd like to see what people think. I'm not going to change my opinion unless anyone could provide definitive evidence, however.**


	18. Chapter 18

Okay, okay, I admit I don't know anything about French

**Okay, okay, I admit I don't know anything about French. I only take Spanish and Latin, so I don't know about the subtle differences. Dominique is a girl.**

It was a distressing two weeks later. Kate had put out flyers and posters for her business where she could, and Dudley had worked his hardest at advertising to everyone possible, without being annoying, and still they had not made a single sale. Kate slipped between states of depression and manic activity. She seemed to think that if she had more meals, then more people would see her ads, so she needed to invent more options. She focused especially on a new desert she was making. She said that it was a new kind of flan, but she had not yet found the right ingredients to give it an interesting, unique taste. Also, the other ingredients in the flan were such weak supports that if she ever did make a flan that tasted about right, it would usually collapse and leave a mess.

Dudley secretly doubted that even if she got it right, people wouldn't care for her new meals anymore than they had cared for the old, considering no one had tried any of her food, but he didn't have the heart to tell her. The only thing that kept the two of them from despair, and completely abandoning the business was the encouragement of Dustin and Sarah. Dustin, of course was further away, and could not of constant condolences, but he never sent a letter anymore that did not contain suggestions for ads, or new dishes, or even just simple words of encouragement. None of his ideas were particularly good, but they helped nonetheless.

Sarah didn't have any suggestions at all, but she was always so bright and cheery that it was infectious. Even during the worst times she wouldn't let her ubiquitous optimism fail. "If only she didn't have to go to school ever day," lamented Kate one evening.

One night, as Dudley arrived home, he was surprised to see Kate and Harry talking in the sitting room. "Hello, Harry," he said. "What brings you here?"

Harry stood up and stretched. "Well," he said, yawning, "I originally came to pick up Albus and Rose, but Kate had some new questions about her business." Dudley was confused why she was asking Harry. They had already agreed earlier in the week that they wouldn't ask Harry to advertise for them again. They were sure he would agree, but he had once told them that he couldn't get the press to stop following him for another couple months after. They thought it would probably be a considerably longer time for the second ad, more than ever if it was for the same family. "She had some questions about a wizard ingredient she wanted to use."

"I figured it out," exclaimed Kate. "Pixie honey! It's the perfect ingredient for my flan. It's so thick and strong, and really sweet. I just don't know why I didn't think of this before!"

"Great job, honey," unintentionally punned Dudley. He turned to Harry. "Do you think that she'll be able to use it?"

"Oh, it shouldn't be a problem. As long as she keeps the ingredient lists confidential, and fixes the dish in a secure location, such as the kitchen, then it should be fine. Besides," he added, straightening his robes, and looking a little conceited, "I like to think I can still throw my weight around a little at the Ministry." They all laughed. "Are you finished with those?" asked Harry, pointing at a small stack of documents. Kate confirmed she was, and Harry tucked them under his robe. "Albus!" he called. "Rose! It's time to go!"

With a little grumbling Albus, Rose and Sarah emerged from the downstairs. "Daaaaaad…" moaned Albus. "We were just getting to the part where the evil jinni kidnaps the boy!" Dudley glanced at Kate, who shrugged. He hoped they were playing a pretty spectacular game of pretend, or that Albus or Rose had brought a book he didn't know of.

"Alright, alright," soothed Harry, "You can finish your game next week."

"Next WEEK?!" they moaned. Harry rolled his eyes. Within a couple minutes, Harry had managed to coax Albus and Rose out to his car, and then they were gone.

Kate served one of the meals she offered in her catering service for dinner that night. This time was different though, because she served her new flan. It was soft enough to melt in the mouth, but its flavor was much richer than its consistency might suggest. It was thoroughly interesting, and very good. The sweet taste that it brought lingered on Dudley's tongue for a surprisingly long time. It wasn't until he brushed his teeth that the taste finally disappeared. He was sure that, if they ever got Kate's business off of the ground, it would be very popular indeed.

As he went to sleep that night, he wondered dully if the next day would bring any better luck. And indeed it would.

The next day, as Dudley was finishing up his morning paper, the phone rang. Dudley picked it up. "Dudley! How are you?" boomed Vernon. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Is Kate there?"

"She is," replied Dudley, "but she's taking a shower. Would you like me to tell her something?"

"Yes, actually. I was talking to Marge on the phone right before this, and she just told me that she was having a dog-lover's meeting at her house this evening, but she that the local caterer was allergic to dogs. She said that he probably wasn't very good anyway, and he would probably upset her poor puppy Gnasher. So, using my good ol' noggin, I told her that I knew of someone that could. She said that she didn't even care if the event was catered, but if I knew someone, that they might as well come and she would pay them. I know it's short notice, and she might not be the most desirable person to cater for, but I thought you might like to know."

Dudley was astounded. "Thanks, Dad, we'd love too! Any publicity is better than none!"

"Very good, indeed. I'll come over and drop off an invitation, so you can see where it is. I was invited, and I wasn't planning on coming, but I might come late to try some of the food if Kate is catering. I haven't actually had any yet," he chuckled. "Perhaps I should have before advertising it, eh?" He laughed, as did Dudley. "Oh, wait," he said and there was a pause. "Petunia needs me for something or other. I'll come by your house in an hour or two to drop off the invite."

"Okay, and thank you so much, Dad," said Dudley and he hung up the phone. He was silent for a minute, and then he let out a whoop of excitement. Their first job! What fun! He picked up Sarah and swung her around. She began giggling uncontrollably. Kate came downstairs in a towel to see the cause of all the hullabaloo.

When Dudley told her, she leaped into the air in joy. Then she clapped her hands to her face. "He said tonight!?" she exclaimed. Dudley confirmed this, and Kate sprinted upstairs. With a confused look, Dudley followed her, and Sarah skipped away back to her breakfast. When Dudley reached the master bedroom, he found Kate practically throwing on clothes.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"If the party is tonight, I have to start cooking right now! Even if I do get all of the food ready in time, I still have to somehow transport it all, without any kind of van, I might add, to the location, unload it, set it all up, reheat some of it and still look calm when the guests arrive!" She practically yelled as she pulled on one of Dudley's shirts, backwards. She dove back down the stairs into the kitchen.

Dudley tentatively followed her. He entered the kitchen to find her rapidly slicing celery and muttering, "Yes, the meatball would go fine…no, the dogs would go after it, the pixie honey cake! No, I haven't got the legal documents for wizard ingredients yet."

"Do you need help?" proffered Dudley carefully.

Kate stopped for a moment and stared at him. Then she shook her head, trying to calm down. "No," she said "I'll be fine. You just go to work and be productive there. By the time you're back, I'll be all done, and you can help me load all the food."

Dudley drove to the school to drop off Sarah, then drove to work. Already, as he got out of his car and almost smashed into a column two feet in front of him, he could tell he wasn't going to follow Kate's instructions. He was not going to be at all productive at work. As he went through the entrance room to the offices behind it, he worried if Kate would have the time to get all of the food done. As he walked down the hall, giving perfunctory greetings to his coworkers, he worried that she couldn't get all of the food to the event in time. As he reached his own cubicle, and sat down, he worried that she would be errant with the food, and that it would send her status from no reputation at all to bad reputation. As unpacked his briefcase, looked at his ideas for advertisements and suggestions, he worried that Aunt Marge might not actually want the food at all, or might hate it.

Ordinarily, he would have no such fear, because he knew that no sane person could possibly dislike Kate's cooking. But, of course, Aunt Marge was not exactly a sane person, especially when she got some wine in her. Dudley and Kate had made it their policy that they would not serve alcohol, and that the people would need to bring it themselves if they wanted it, but Dudley was sure that Aunt Marge would have a ready supply.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought that this was a bad idea. Aunt Marge would only embarrass them and make them look bad to all of her friend, who might spread word about the new, horrible caterer. Even if they did everything right, Aunt Marge would still insult anyone around when she was drunk, even her "favorite nephew" and his wife. Dudley feared that if she got too cruel, it could permanently scar Kate's self-esteem. Dudley would have called home and told Kate to cancel the event, but they had already said they would do it, and cancelling would make them look bad, though possibly not as bad as Aunt Marge could make them look.

He did, in fact, call about halfway through the day. As soon as Kate heard his voice, though, she immediately told him. "No, don't worry about me. I've got everything under control. You get back to work." She gave him a few seconds to interject, in case he actually had anything to say, but Dudley did not, so she hung up.

Later, he called Vernon to ask him what time the party was actually at. Vernon said it started at 7:00.

For Dudley, the day both sped on immodestly fast and dragged on cruelly slow. Every time he thought of how little work he had done, it seemed like the day would never end. Every time he thought that Kate had only four more hours to cook, three, two, one; time shot by like he had never known.

By the time work was out, Dudley was practically bursting with anxiety and he was packed up and ready to go half an hour early. He nearly sprinted to his car, threw his brief case inside, and drove away.

He tried not to break the speed limit, but with only two hours till the party, it was hard to resist. As he arrived home, he swung into the driveway dangerously, and got out. He was about to run in and offer to help carry things, when Hermione walked out of their front door. She was subtly levitating more food than she could possibly carry, all of it in little plastic containers. She lowered it down into the trunk of Harry's car which was parked outside. Dudley wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

Hermione ran over to Dudley. "Hello, Dudley," she expelled excitedly. "Ginny and I have come to help Kate out. It's so exciting, isn't it? To finally get your business off the ground? I'm just so glad that I could come and help."

"You helped her out?" asked Dudley, a bit dumbly.

"Well, of course," she replied, a bit exasperated. "There's no way she could do it on her own, and we wouldn't let her fail. Come on, though, she still needs all the help she can get."

Dudley and Hermione walked in. He waved to Ginny, who was walking out, levitating bowls and plates. She smiled, but did not let up her concentration. As Dudley walked into the kitchen, his jaw dropped. Every surface in the room was covered in plates and plates of roast beef, luscious salads, fruits with yogurt dips, loaves of steaming bread, and more culinary wonders he could not even compute. He felt it hard not to revert to his old, boyhood way of eating right then and there.

But then Kate noticed him, and immediately began piling his arms with trays to be taken out to the car. Dudley only had time for one more bewildered look around before Hermione had swished her wand and picked up about twice what Dudley was carrying, and shooed him out.

He walked out to the trunk of the car. He was sure that there would be no way that all of the food would fit in Harry's small car, but as he looked into the trunk, he changed his mind. It was about a meter deep and three or four wide and long, much bigger than the dimensions of that car would normally allow. Dudley sighed and smiled at the thought of what Aunt Marge's reaction would be if she only knew how much of her meal was prepared or transported by means of magic.

Five minutes later, everything was ready and in the car. Ginny and Hermione had offered to come to the party and help unload things too, but they were early enough to unload and set up all of the food without magic. Besides, Sarah, Albus and Rose weren't coming to the party, and they needed someone to stay with them.

With a little note scrawled on the door to inform visitors of their location, they got in the car and drove off.

There was a little more traffic then they had expected, but Dudley managed to keep his cool and navigate to Aunt Marge's house without getting lost. The hardest part was ignoring all the aromas emanating from the back seat. They arrived with plenty off time.

As they pulled up to the house, Aunt Marge noticed them and, with her prize dog Gnasher under her arm, lumbered up to them. "Dudley!" she shouted, "My favorite nephew!" She came closer for a hug, but as she approached, Gnasher growled. Aunt Marge looked down. The ugly creature looked like a cross between a pug and a pit bull. Small enough to be annoying, yet large enough to be dangerous. "I'm sorry, Dudders, but Gnasher has been a bit sensitive ever since the big surgery. He doesn't trust strangers anymore. He'll go after them if they provoke him, like that stupid mailman!" she muttered under her breath for a moment about how it was his fault that Gnasher bit him, and that he should be the one to be put down.

"Aunt Marge," said Dudley, "This is my wife, Kate," Kate extended a friendly hand, but Gnasher growled, and she quickly withdrew it.

"You can put the food over there," she indicated with a cock of her head. There was a shaky table covered in bite marks that looked like it would not support the weight of all of the food. Fortunately, when the table was beginning to sag in earnest, Kate noticed that Ginny had had the foresight to pack an extra table and several clean tablecloths in the bottom of the enlarged trunk.

Just as Dudley had slammed the trunk of the car, hiding the view of its magical enlargement from others who might arrive, the first car showed up. Four women got out, each with their own dog. The first one was horrendously fat, almost to rival Aunt Marge, and she carried a little pug with folds of skin drooping over its eyes. The second woman was obviously forty or fifty, but, with plastic surgery and other modern miracles, she seemed to be trying to look twenty. It gave her a rather frightening look. A little poodle followed her out, its head stuck up high. The third woman looked like a slightly uglier version of Dudley's mother, and without the kind look that Petunia had slowly been beginning to acquire over the past few years. She carried a little Chihuahua, and looked like she didn't care about dogs at all, and she was at the party for another reason. Spying on her neighbors, Dudley guessed. The last woman out of the car was actually around twenty years old, and she looked gentler than the others. As she got out, a beautiful, well-trained black lab with silky fur stepped out after her.

Slowly, more and more people arrived. Dudley quietly hazarded a guess to Kate that about half were overweight. She laughed. Despite their obvious liking of food, Kate still hadn't received any compliments from them about her meals, though quite a bit was being eaten. The only compliment she had received had come from the woman with the black lab, who said that her food was good.

As the women arrived, so did the dogs. Dudley was surprised just how many ugly, ugly dogs there were in the world. Kate covered up all of her food so that the dogs couldn't steal it from the tables, but she suspected that a good deal of the roast beef she was giving out was being re-gifted to the dogs. She said that she distinctly heard one woman exclaim, "Look how adorable, he's just wolfing it down!" Every once in a while a fight would break out between dogs, during which both of the owners would loudly complain that their dog was only playing, but the other dog was trying to kill their little poochie, but no one would ever intervene. Soon there was so much barking that Dudley could hardly even hear the conversation. Gnasher seemed to be the cause of most of it.

The party was beginning to wind down, when there was a loud crack on the other side of the fence surrounding the lawn. This startled the dogs, and more howling ensued. "Who would do such a thing?" asked a few of the ladies.

Dudley immediately realized who it was, and regretted leaving the address of the party on their front door. He sprinted past the women and the dogs to the front of the yard, just in time to see Harry walk in, carrying a file.

"Hello, Dudley," he said, "Congratulations on your first event! I just came to drop off these documents. They say that you're allowed to use the pixie honey as long as you keep ingredients confidential and…"

"Yes, yes, good job, thank you, Harry, now it's time for you to go back to work and…"

"Dudley!" came a boom from behind, and Dudley knew his efforts to ferry Harry off quickly had failed. He grimaced, and turned to see the giant shadow of Aunt Marge approaching. "I think the party is going splendidly, except for that horrendous crack. It was those villainous hooligans from the city I know it. They're always coming down here to cause trouble and… You!" and with that she suddenly turned her attention to Harry, who looked at her, then Dudley with some surprise.

"You're still alive?! I would have thought a troublemaker like you would have died or gone to jail years ago! I'll bet my teeth you made that loud noise. I'll have you arrested I will! I'll call the Bobbies, and you can't do anything about it!" Harry had recovered from his initial surprise and with a glance at Dudley mimed himself inflating. Dudley quickly jammed his hand to his mouth to avoid bursting out laughing.

"Stop it!" exclaimed Marge. "I don't know what you're doing, but stop! It's people like you that are destroying society! First your parents were polluting the job market, then they had to go and get themselves killed, and probably hurt someone else in that car crash…"

"Wait, a minute, Marge…" interrupted Harry, the playfulness beginning to fade from his face.

"Then you go, mucking up the public school, and probably the jail system too…"

"Hold on a minute…" continued Harry, now completely serious.

"Then you always manage to find some tramp to marry and breed your stupid infernal spawn who will just mess it up all over again!"

For the first time, Harry was completely silent, and Dudley knew that Marge had gone too far. Harry edged his hand into his pocket With the sudden sound of exploding air, Aunt Marge was flung a meter or two back to land on her rear. Gnasher broke free and landed on his feet, and, growling, sprinted at Harry with another quick jerk of the hand in his pocket, Gnasher too split the air to land on Aunt Marge's stomach. She let out a giant, "Ooof!" Harry handed the folder he was carrying to Dudley.

"Never insult my family again" he told her. Then he strode to the other side of the fence, just out of view, and with another crack he was gone.

In the stunned silence, Aunt Marge struggled to her feet. "That boy!" she screamed. "That idiot boy! He tried to kill me! I am going to go call the Bobbies on him right now!"

"I think he did a very brave thing," said Dudley quietly. Aunt Marge heard. She turned to him and jammed her face to his he could almost feel her little mustache tickling him. Then, with the quiet kind of whisper that you should never argue with she hissed,

"You're siding with him?" Dudley nodded. There was a moment of silence.

"OUT!" she screamed. "GET OUT! And bring your wife and all of her food! I'm going to tell everyone just how horrible you are. And I'm not paying you either!"

Surprised at her ferocity, Dudley glanced over to the catering tables. He had just blown Kate's only opportunity to ever make it big. But Kate was not at the table. Dudley turned, confused. As he looked to the side, he saw that she had a stack of empty dishes in her arms. "Fine," she said. "I don't need your money," and with that, she walked over to the car and deposited the dishes. Dudley stared in bewilderment for a second longer. "Dudley, could you help me pack up?" she asked. Dudley roused himself from his amazement and started to transport both empty and full dishes.

Dudley could feel the entire party staring at them as they packed up. Fortunately, the trunk of the car was pointed away from the people, so no one saw its magical extension. After he put the final dish in the trunk, Dudley turned to Aunt Marge.

"I have nothing else to say," she remarked curtly, "but that you are no longer welcome at my house." Dudley nodded and got in the car. They began to drive away.

"Wait!" came a voice from the crowd. The young woman with the black lab came running out to the car, her dog at her heels. She was carrying the file Harry had given Dudley, containing the documentation allowing Kate to cook with pixie honey. Kate rolled down the window. "You forgot this," said the woman, "And I don't think you'll be coming back anytime soon."

Kate laughed cynically, and the woman smiled. "I thought your food was really good. I'll tell all of my friends about it. Honestly!" Kate smiled, and this time it was earnest.

"Thank you," she said. "You don't know how much that means to me."

And, having made that new friend, Dudley and Kate drove off into the setting sun.

**Wow, really long chapter this time.**

**That means I should get a ton more reviews right?**


	19. Chapter 19

I'm sorry

**I'm sorry! I know I haven't updated for a really long time, but school is almost out, and finals are next week, so I've been really busy. Anyway, here goes.**

As Dudley and Kate drove home, Dudley fears were slowly realized. Though she put on a firm face for the first ten or so minutes, Kate's resolute expression began to sink. Dudley glanced sideways at her whenever he could, at the traffic light, or at a stop sign, and every time he looked, she looked a little less determined to seem unperturbed by Aunt Marge's actions. Depression was quickly seeping in. By the time they arrived at their house, Dudley basically had to drag her in. She had just lost the will to move.

As they opened the door, Ginny and Hermione rushed out of the sitting room to greet them. "How did it go?" "Were they excited?" "We put the kids to bed, don't worry," "Did they like the food?" "Of course, they did, who couldn't!" "Oh, tell us what happened!"

Kate was bombarded by all of these requests and more. But all she did in response was quietly murmur her thanks to all of them and trudge up the stairs, her back slumped.

Hermione and Ginny's expressions slowly fell. They turned their attention back to Dudley. "What did happen?" they asked.

So, Dudley began to retell their tale of woe. Hermione and Ginny were disgusted at the behavior of all the women at the party, ("Feeding Kate's fine roast beef to dogs…Honestly!") but they were both still confused as to why this would depress Kate to the extent that they saw her at.

Before Dudley could get to the part when Harry arrived, Ginny stopped him. "Wait," she said, "Does this have anything to do with Harry? We saw him arrive here and read the sign on the door, but he didn't know we were here or say anything. If he was the one who messed this up then I'm going to…" Dudley held up a hand to silence her and continued. As Dudley told of the events leading to Aunt Marge's explosion, Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Dudley began to be very glad he was not Harry.

"Then," continued Dudley nervously, "she said…er… first your parents were polluting the job market, then they had to go and get themselves killed, and probably hurt someone else in that car crash…" Hermione gasped and opened her mouth, obviously furious. "Then you go, mucking up the public school, and probably the jail system too…"

Ginny nodded, obviously waiting for the one thing Aunt Marge said that would push Harry over the edge. "Then…um…she…er…said…" Dudley stuttered for another moment, very unwilling to repeat the last phrase.

"Go on, Dudley," said Ginny, using the signature tone she learned from Mrs. Weasley.

Dudley gritted his teeth. "Then you always manage to find some tramp to marry and…"

Ginny swore loudly. "It's always those words that make him do something stupid! When will he learn that I don't care that some fat old lady I've never met assumes I'm just a tramp?"

Dudley opened and closed his mouth several times. He knew that if he reiterated the next thing Marge said, it would spare Harry some of Ginny's wrath. However, he was still frightened to even be near a Weasley with her ire aroused. But, being a true friend to Harry, he just sucked in his gut, closed his eyes and loudly and clearly ejaculated, "Then she said, 'You always manage to find some tramp to marry and breed your stupid infernal spawn that will just do the same thing over again.'" With almost Gryffindor worthy courage, he peeked through just one eye. He saw a terrible vision of fury. Ginny had not gone red, but white, and it was clear that she was just barely controlling herself.

"What…did she say?" asked Ginny, her voice trembling. Horrified, Dudley's gaze wandered over to the sheet of paper taped on their door: The sheet that contained Marge's address. Ginny followed his gaze and made a grab for the paper. She was not quick enough. With a flick of Hermione's wand and a burst of flame, the ashen remains of the paper floated down off the door. Ginny cursed loudly again.

"Ginny," said Hermione, "Don't be so ribald. You might wake the children." Ginny grabbed Dudley's shirt.

"Where does she live?" she demanded. Dudley stuttered that he didn't remember the exact address. Ginny roared with frightening ferocity. "Well, if you can't tell me, maybe Harry will!" She let go of Dudley and immediately disapperated. Hermione sighed.

"Don't worry, she'll calm down when Harry tells her what he did. I take it Harry did, in fact, do something?" Dudley nodded. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Men are so predictable sometimes."

"After she said that," Dudley began again, "Harry went all quiet and…" But Hermione held up her hand to silence him.

"I'm sure whatever punishment Harry saw fit to inflict upon her is punishment enough for me to be satisfied. I don't need to know all the details, I'm just satisfied it happened. Honestly, what a horrible person." She tutted to herself. "If I'm going to insult someone, I at least have the courtesy to get to know them first."

Dudley assured her it did. "Well," she said, "both of the children are asleep, and we didn't leave you any problems."

"Thank you very much," said Dudley.

"Don't worry about it, they're very entertaining children. Ginny and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Well, I think that Rose said she was planning on coming over here on Thursday, so I'll see you then."

Dudley nodded his thanks, and with a brief goodbye, she was gone as well. Taking a deep breath, Dudley trudged up the stairs. Preparing himself for the worst, he opened the door to his and Kate's room just a crack. He peered in. Kate was lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. She did not look as depressed as Dudley thought she would probably look; she just looked like she had died a little inside.

Dudley glanced around, hoping for some sign of salvation. Seeing none, he steeled himself and knocked on the door. "May I come in?" he asked, trying not to sound sheepish.

She shrugged, and Dudley entered.

"How're you doing?" he asked. She shrugged again. Dudley sighed. It would have been easier if she just yelled at him and got it over with. "Listen," he began. "I know that cooking means a lot to you and you love to do, and hence the catering business is important."

Kate remained impassive. Dudley gritted his teeth and continued. "But, I think that you have made some unreasonable assumptions because of the…disaster at Marge's party."

"Like?" Kate asked, keeping her face expressionless.

"That no one liked your food, that no one liked your service, that they will spread nasty things about you, and that your cooking career is over."

Kate shrugged again. "I think those are reasonable," she said quietly.

"No!" expelled Dudley, exasperated. "Listen, Kate, firstly, there is a difference between liking your food and appreciating it. Everyone at the party liked your food! I am one hundred percent sure. The only ones who appreciated it were the two of us! And…errr…that young woman…with the black dog. No one could possibly think your food is bad, just some people don't realize how much time and work went into it, so they…gave it to their dogs and such." Kate looked at him as if all of his arguments were flawed. "Kate," Dudley sighed, "If your food was so bad, would they really eat so much of it?" The corners of Kate's mouth lifted just a tad.

Of course, she forced them back down. "You saw how fat they were. They would probably eat that much dirt if I told them it was supposed to taste good."

Dudley chuckled. "That's true," They both smiled for just a moment. Then Kate sighed, and returned to her normal deadpan face.

"Kate, your service was flawless, you were completely prepared, you had enough of everything, and you did exactly what Marge told you up to the last minute. I won't hear that you didn't serve her well enough." She shrugged.

"I guess," she murmured.

"Now, about your reputation. I really, don't think it will have suffered much, because…" But Kate cut him off, propping herself up on her arms to look straight at him. Normally it would have been a bad sign, but any emotion that wasn't despair was good news to Dudley.

"Now, I won't hear this. You saw what kind of horrible women they were; they are all going to take any chance they can to spread rumours. And, yes, I heard them gossiping. They were saying truly horrible things about each other as they got the food from the table. It was all I could do to not let my disgust show. None of them like any of the others, and all of them hate Marge, but of course, they keep civil faces. They are all simply repulsive, and I'm sure they hate people they don't even know, like me. There is no way they aren't going to spread nasty lies about me." And she flung herself down on the bed with her arms crossed.

Dudley smiled shrewdly, both because he had a valid counterpoint, and because she now acknowledged that all the things the women might be saying were lies.

He laid himself down beside her. "I think I can convince you otherwise," he said.

"Really?" she asked cynically, and she turned her back to him.

Dudley pushed himself up, and put his mouth by her ear. "Kate," he whispered. "Though those women probably do hate people they just met, do you really think that they would hate them more than they already hate Marge?"

"They probably hate Marge more," agreed Kate warily.

"Then, given the opportunity, do you think they would rather tell how some stranger needless assaulted Marge, and the insolent caterers took off with him…or, that a handsome and mysterious gentlemen showed up to the party, and gallantly bore all abuse Marge threw at him, until she insulted her family. Then, this mystic noble casually preceded to defend his family by embarrassing Marge in front of the whole party. She was so shamed, that even the caterers left."

Kate turned her face, which bore an unsuppressed grin. "I have to admit the second story is certainly more…provocative." She laughed and sat up. They smiled at each other for a while.

"You going to be alright?" Dudley asked. She sighed, but ended with a look of satisfaction on her face.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be fine." She leaned forward, and gave Dudley a tight squeeze, letting out all of her built up emotion. They both stood up and walked for the door. As Kate reached it, she turned around grinning, and said, "Oh, by the way, I'm definitely going to tell Harry you called him, what was it? 'Handsome and mysterious'?"

Dudley grinned and shrugged. "He might not be so handsome when Ginny gets done with him." Kate let a chuckle escape her lips.

"Was she really that mad?" she asked him, with just a note of seriousness underneath it all.

"She was, until I told her exactly the sentence that made Harry mad, and…"

"Oh, then she got mad at Marge," completed Kate, with understanding, and a hint of pity for Marge.

Dudley chortled good-naturedly. "Ginny is Ginny. Fortunately, she never got Marge's address."

"I'm glad," said Kate earnestly, yet still with amusement. "Harry's punishment would have been nothing!" She began to descend the stairs.

"Say," questioned Dudley, "Where are we going anyway?"

"To the kitchen," replied Kate innocently.

Dudley tried to puzzle it out on his own for a second, and then gave up. "Why?"

All innocence was gone from Kate's expression as she cocked one of her eyebrows maliciously. "Dishes."

**Wow…I nearly abandoned this fic. Sorry everyone, I'll write more often now. I can write off some of my laziness to a broken arm, but still, school is out, so I have more free time. I'll write more frequently. Out of curiosity, how old do people think I am. (Don't worry, you won't offend me, unless you say, five, or something)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Many thanks to zeynel for giving me a good laugh with her review. While many of you think I'm older based on my writing or clues within, zeynel hit it right on the money, and (after complimenting my maturity) guessed I was fifteen. So, now you know.**

The week passed calmly after that. Dudley returned to work, and the Sarah to school. Dudley and Kate sent a letter to Dustin telling him what happened. He sympathized, and in a little postscript offered to send Marge a curse. ("I'm sure Professor McGonagall would let me if she heard what Marge said to Harry!") Both Kate and Dudley told him that they appreciated the effort, but a firm no was the only response to his offer. In a later letter he admitted that the only curse he knew how to put in an envelope would only have made her fingers green, not a very serious punishment.

Kate made it through the week. She wasn't particularly happy, and the meals she cooked were always whipped up in a few minutes or so. It was obvious she was still slightly depressed. Dudley offered to cook, if she wasn't feeling up to it, but she replied that she needed to stay in practice, and that Dudley would probably burn the house down. Dudley had to admit it was true. His childhood love of food never extended to making it.

His only counter-point was that they still had a fire alarm in the kitchen. Kate laughed and replied she'd rather not use it.

Sarah was a little beam of sunshine for both of them. She was still quiet most of the time, with a dreamy smile on her face, like a little Luna. Still, when either of them needed some cheering up, she was the one they turned to. She had the gentle tact of Hermione and the calming honesty of Luna. Dudley always thought it was interesting to try to track the influences in her life. Dudley actually expected Sarah to move out of her quiet phase pretty soon. Before that phase, she had always had a lot of energy, and Dudley knew that pretty soon she would need an outlet for all of that. Nonetheless, he was glad that she was like Luna now. She was always a good shoulder to figuratively cry on. She was a bit too young for either Dudley or Kate to actually vent all of their frustrations on.

Harry came over to apologize for what his reckless behavior had cost them, and he seemed very fervent. He seemed so convinced that what had happened was his fault that Kate actually burst out laughing for the first time in a long while. Harry was confused and a little angry at them for not taking him seriously at first. Then Dudley began to point out all of the flaws in his reasoning. After a little while even Harry had to admit that not everything was his fault.

Everyone in the Dudley Dursley family found comfort by slipping further away from their normal lives and deeper into the wizarding world. Kate would spend much of her time with all of the Weasley sister-in-laws (and Ginny). Dudley stayed with them once to see what it was like. Kate was slightly distant, but still friendly, and she still enjoyed herself.

With the Weasley clan, came all of the children. Sarah would spend every opportunity she could in the basement, the attic, or the backyard with all of her Weasley cousins (as she had come to call them). She always told Dudley and Kate about her marvelous games of pretend after they had all left. Several times, Dudley had caught one of the Weasleys or Sarah using a little bit of magic. It was always small, but Dudley came and cautioned them nonetheless. When he told Harry about it, he was impressed. He said that he knew a few of the Weasleys could control their magic without a wand or any training, but he told Dudley that his daughter must be a talented witch to have already figured out how to use magic she had only learned about a year or two ago.

Dudley grew closer to Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. He wasn't exactly one of their regular chums that came over every week or two, partially because he didn't have magical transportation and partially because he didn't understand Quidditch or wizard politics, but he came over for a dinner, or a guy's night every once in a while. He would come more often, but business had picked up again, and the Burrow was far away. Harry once offered to apparate with him, and Dudley dubiously accepted. After that experience, he decided that it was worth the drive.

And so it was that two months passed. The weather was turning from simply chilly to downright cold, and it was unarguable that winter was finally here. This was a time of excitement for all of the Dursleys, Vernon and Petunia included, because Dustin would soon be returning from Hogwarts to spend Christmas break at home. Sarah was especially excited to see him, and no matter how many times Dudley explained the rules, she was convinced that Dustin would come home to teach her all the magic he had learned at Hogwarts.

The week two weeks before Dustin arrived was slightly depressing. Both Dudley and Kate knew that Dustin would be getting back soon, and they were eager and excited to see him in person. The problem was that they felt like they should be preparing for his coming, but there was nothing left to do. Dudley insisted that the house was thoroughly cleaned, even though he knew that it wouldn't remain that way for two weeks. Kate began to plan out menus and get ingredients for when he got back, but she knew that she would want to spend time with him, not time cooking. Sarah arranged all of her dolls and toys in a fun little setting to look nice, though she knew that she wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to play with them again in the next two weeks.

The worst part was that they all knew that their preparations wouldn't make him get home any earlier, and that there wasn't really anything they could do but wait. So, by the end of the week, the house was back to its usual state of gentle, but still obvious disarray, Kate's menu had been scrapped, and Sarah's toys were all over the house once more.

The week right before Dustin arrived would have been the same, if not worse, if not for one, huge, lucky break three days before he arrived. Dudley was returning from a long and boring meeting and collapsed back in his chair. A small poof of dust exploded from around his seat. Dudley chuckled. It had been far too long of a meeting. To be fair, there had been a lot of meetings lately, so all of the dust did not accumulate during that particular meeting. The firm had been having a little bit of trouble still dealing with old clients in addition to all of the new ones that Dudley's ad had brought in. Of course, they were glad for all the business and it solved more problems than it created, but nonetheless, they needed lots of work to make the transition smooth.

Dudley understood why the meetings were important for the business; but he also knew that they were entirely unimportant to him. Most of the people in the firm were lawyers, or interns, or secretaries, or salesmen. What applied to them did not apply to him at all.

Wiping the tiredness from his eyes, he shook his head and picked up an old file on his desk. It had nothing to do with advertising and involved a case that was already solved. He sighed and tossed it into the trash. Sometimes he felt this job was perfect, rewarding, and a good fit for him, but at times like this, he just couldn't wait to get to the end of the long road to retirement.

The phone on his desk rang once. "Home," read the receiver. Dudley frowned. Kate usually didn't call him at work, unless it was something important. He wondered for a moment, until a second ring startled him out of his reverie. "Well," he thought, "Only one way to find out." He picked up the phone. "Hello?" he asked.

"D…Dudley," came Kate's voice. It was wavering, something it almost never did. "I…I have a job." Dudley groaned heavily. "What?" asked Kate, sounding a little hurt and confused.

"If it's to shovel the driveway, I've already told you, there's just over a centimeter of snow, and the rain this evening is probably going to wash it away, so it's better to wait and see. If there's still snow or ice tomorrow morning I'll shovel it before I go to work."

Kate laughed shakily, once, twice, three times, gaining strength as she went. It was Dudley's turn to be confused. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Dudley…" she giggled. "I don't have a job for you…I have a job for me! Someone called and said that they need a caterer for their early Christmas party tomorrow night!"

Dudley jumped to his feet. "What?" he yelled into the receiver as the rest of the phone clattered to the ground. Dudley winced and picked it up. One of his coworkers stuck in her head to make sure he was alright. Satisfied, she pulled it back out to return to her cubicle.

"Are you okay?" asked Kate doubtfully. "I thought I heard something fall. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was just the phone," assured Dudley. "That's great! Do you need help? I can come home early, or take tomorrow off, or walk to work so you can borrow my car, or…"

"No, no," she halted. "All I need is for you to come home early tomorrow, say four'o'clock to watch Sarah. The Potters and Weasleys are out of town, so they can't do it, remember?"

After congratulating her again and once more asking if there was anything else he could do, he said goodbye and hung up. He couldn't remember anything from the rest of the day, other than that it was excruciatingly slow. So, naturally, when it was time to leave, he was first ready, first up, and he skipped down the stairs to his waiting car. He threw his coat into the backseat and quickly pulled out.

When he arrived home, Sarah reverently informed him that mommy was cooking, and he needed to be careful not to get in her way. He laughed and ruffled her hair. She scowled at him. The Luna phase was definitely on its way out, he thought.

Still, he was ginger as he crept up to the kitchen door. "Kate?" he asked bravely. "Would you like me to come in?"

"Sure!" came the reply from behind the door. "Just don't get in my way!" As quickly as possible, Dudley wrenched open the door and dodged around to the other side of the room. All that was on that side was one cupboard with ordinary drinking glasses and a wooden desk and chair where their computer sat. Kate wouldn't need an ordinary glass, and she had all of the recipes she wanted to use for catering committed to her memory, so Dudley certainly wouldn't be in the way here.

"You know…err…I may be dedicated…hmm…to cooking…ugh…and a bit…darn…preoccupied…there!...but I'm not insane yet." Kate's speech was punctuated by little sounds of satisfaction as she dabbed little spirals of whipped cream onto a key lime pie. She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, and was surrounded by five pies: custard, apple, key lime, blueberry, and Boston cream. Dudley stared at them longingly.

"Oh no you don't," she snapped, following his gaze. "These are for my…clients," She smiled as she said the last word, happy to finally have real customers. "If you really want some pie, I can make you some after the event tomorrow.

Dudley shook his head, coming back to reality. "No…no…I'll be fine. You focus on cooking for them."

She sighed. "I wish I could prepare more now…I'm going to have a pretty crazy day tomorrow. Of course, all I can make is these pies and a couple dips that are served cold." She frowned thoughtfully. "You know, Dudley, when I talked to the woman on the phone, she said that she heard about my service from a friend, and she sounded like she was maybe late in college, or possibly just graduated. Do you think she heard from the woman with the black lab?"

"Probably," scoffed Dudley, "Could you see anyone else at Marge's party telling their friends about you? Or, for that matter, even having any real friends younger than forty?"

Kate nodded in agreement. "Maybe I'll see her there. That'd be nice." Dudley agreed.

Kate told Dudley that she had already quickly fixed some pasta for herself and Sarah, and that the leftovers were in the refrigerator. Dudley reheated it in the microwave, the only appliance he was sure she wouldn't use, and had his dinner, talking with Kate the whole time. He sometimes asked her about different ingredients she would use in her dishes. Dudley still had absolutely no idea how to cook, and certainly had no ambition to join his wife anytime soon, but he was beginning to fancy himself as a gourmand, and felt obligated to know what ingredients created what flavors. When he told Kate about this, she began to laugh, and told him that conjured up many images of him sitting in a red velvet chair, covered in brummagem trinkets, in the center of a fancy French restaurant, with a little mustache, and a rather arrogant look. To this, of course Dudley, raised his eyebrows elegantly, and delicately slurped his reheated pasta, brandishing his fork through the air like a baton. Neither of them could hold back their mirth.

They talked for a couple of hours or so, him telling stories, her cooking, before they realized that they had let Sarah stay up a good thirty minutes past her bedtime. Dudley quietly slipped out of the kitchen and crept up the stairs to find her nodding off in front of her book. He tiptoed to her bed and gently tried to remove the book from her hands. Unfortunately, she woke up as her hands fell to her sides.

"Daddyyyy…" she whined. "I need to finish the book…I only have two pages left…"

He laughed softly and began to read the last two pages to her. "The baby paused, and looked at the back of the boat…" As he read, she slipped further and further into her stupor. She really was very cute as her eyes finally closed. "…_Beatrice._" He said as he shut the book. He began to sneakily push himself up from the foot of her bed, but not sneakily enough.

"Don't stop…" she murmured. "Keep reading…"

So Dudley sat down softly, and started at the beginning of the book. She was deep asleep long before he stopped reading. Realizing Kate might wonder what was taking him so long, he softly took his egress. The book he held in his hand certainly was interesting. Perhaps he should find the rest of the series and start at the beginning, not The End.

It had been a while since he had read anything for leisure alone. And even though he knew that the books were written for children, it didn't put him off at all. "After all, what lessons do children need to learn that adults don't?" he reasoned.

As he guessed, Kate asked him what took him so long when he arrived back downstairs. He told her, and told her that he thought that he might read the series she was reading for himself. Kate told him that it was a good idea, and that she always thought that while grown-up books had deeper lessons and morals that were meant for adults only, children's books lessons basic and important enough for everyone. After that, they chatted idly for another hour as Kate made her final dip. She let Dudley test this one, and when he agreed that it was simply superb, they both retired to bed.

Dudley snuck into Sarah's room and rummaged through her bookshelf to find the first book of the series he was interested. Judging by the number on the binding of the last book, there were a lot between the first and the finale. That was good. It gave Dudley more reading material.

He slipped back into the master bedroom and settled into the bed. Normally when they were both reading at night, he was reading the newspaper, and she was reading some romance or mystery novel. Tonight, Kate was reading the latter, but Dudley had changed his normal style.

They read for another hour before Kate decided that it would be best for her to get to sleep as early as possible. Dudley finished chapter ten with only three more to go and agreed that she needed her sleep. She turned off the light.

Dudley did not get to sleep for a long time that night. He thought about his book, and about the day to come. He could also tell that Kate was not asleep, by the way she held herself unnaturally still. She always shifted a little every once in a while as she slept. Dudley also knew that she knew he was not asleep. Still, their mutual understanding of each other's worries and cares let them just lie in the silence and dark, until sleep finally claimed them.

**Well, I'd apologize for the long time between updates, but apologizing won't change anything.**

**Also, kudos to anyone who can guess what book Dudley was reading to Sarah. I've left a couple clues, in addition to the name of the book itself somewhere in the chapter.**

**I think that sometimes children's books are better than normal books. I like their complete lack of sesquipedalian terms.**


	21. Chapter 21

Well, school is back in, so I should technically have more excuses not to write, but I always find that I can work better when I'm busy anyway

**Well, school is back in, so I should technically have more excuses not to write, but I always find that I can work better when I'm busy anyway. So, expect more frequent updates.**

Morning finally came, the fickle rays of sunlight struggling to suffuse the near frozen landscape. Dudley had lain awake for hours, yet he felt surprisingly calm as the alarm blared and rattled in his ear. Rolling his shoulders in their sockets, he sat up, and disengaged the alarm.

Looking over to the other side of the bed, he whispered, "Time to wake up, K…" But she was gone, her bedsheet folded neatly. Dudley sighed, and gently lowered his feet into the warm caverns of his slippers. With the halcyon peace of a new morning wrapped around him, Dudley descended the stairs gently, carefully to skip the creaky step, so as not to wake Sarah. He quickly discovered that his efforts were in vain, as she was standing at the dining room table, pouring some breakfast cereal into her bowl. There was another place set for Dudley, but none for Kate. An unseen flurry of activity, slightly dampened by the kitchen door indicated that she was not concerned about breakfast at the time.

Glancing at the kitchen door, Dudley noticed a small Post-it note stuck to the handle. Peeling it off, Dudley read.

Dudley—

Do not disturb me. I must remain focused if I am to get everything ready in such short notice. I will get my own breakfast.

REMEMBER! BE BACK AT 4:00! It's very important.

A small picture of a frowny face emphasized her point. Looking back to the table, he searched for his own breakfast. There was only one box of cereal, and it was clear that Sarah had picked it out. It was some children's brand, covered in leprechauns and marshmallows. Dudley sighed. The only other cereal was in the kitchen, and he didn't want to disconcert Kate for something as trivial as a different kind of cereal, so he sat down to eat it.

It was as he expected, overly sugary, with not a hint of anything natural. It wasn't too bad, but it made him feel just a little sick, to not be able to know what he was eating. He washed it down with a quick glass of orange juice. Rapidly deciding that if he might be able to leave early without using up a sick day if he arrived early and worked hard, packed his bag. Sarah was slightly opposed to going to school early, but admitted that she wanted to help Kate any way she could. So, Dudley left about an hour early and dropped Sarah off at school. After that he drove to work.

Work was boring. Usually it wasn't so, but excitement for the possible success of his wife made it seem pathetic by comparison. Also, they had two more meetings, which didn't help. He was slightly behind on his workload, so once the meeting were over, he spent several mindless hours filling out forms.

He spent lunch break with a few friends, and went up to tell his boss that he would be leaving early. His boss seemed a little frustrated, but agreed that he deserved to go home an hour early.

Dudley watched the sun slowly begin to descend, barely containing how eager he was to get back home. When four finally came, he waved a quick goodbye to his coworkers, who appeared slightly confused at his sudden early departure, and hopped in his car.

He had left a bit too early, and misjudging the amount of time it would take for him to get home when he wasn't in rush hour traffic, he arrived home ten minutes early. Dudley mentally shrugged. Even if he stayed ten minutes longer, he wouldn't have accomplished anything. Parking his car in front of the curb instead of the driveway, so as not to block Kate's car, he stepped out. Kate had managed to contact the Potters during their vacation to Egypt (to relive Ginny's youth), and asked if she could borrow their car. They agreed of course, and told her where they had left the keys. This car was the one with the magical trunk capable of fitting far more than was expected in, so it was useful to catering. Additionally, when Mrs. Weasley had heard, she leant them her nice silverware, enchanted to keep all dishes at the perfect temperature, without becoming hot or cold themselves. They were excellent for preserving food.

Kate stepped onto the front porch, carrying another dish in her hands. This one looked to be an entrée, as the gleaming silver tray it was in was large enough to necessitate Kate to carry it with both arms.

"Oh, Dudley," she exclaimed. "You're early! I was just finishing up."

"Nothing for me to carry?" asked Dudley helpfully. "I can help if you need it."

"No," replied Kate. "This one is the very last dish. Sarah isn't back yet. She's still at football **(**_**Or soccer, depending on my audience**_**) **practice." Dudley laughed softly. It was Sarah's new thing. He had never been into any sports until boxing, and he didn't really ever want to be. "She should be back in the next five minutes or so. I'm glad you're here early, because now I can leave without waiting for both of you to arrive."

She carefully slipped down the steps and over to the car. She bent down into the trunk, further than the bottom of the car normally would have allowed her, and released the tray with a metallic 'clunk'. She stood up, wiping imaginary dust from her hands. "There!"

Dudley sidled around the back. The trunk seemed bigger than it was last time, even though it was magically enhanced both times. Perhaps the enchantment was to make it exactly whatever size the job necessitated. Either way, the food fit in perfectly, and the combination of odors was intoxicating. He took a deep breath, and then shook his head to clear it. No, he thought, all of this food was for Kate's party, and he couldn't eat any.

Kate laughed lightly at him. "Dudley," she said. "I've made a little bit too much and left some for you and Sarah inside. It should be enough for dinner."

"Oh," said Dudley, suddenly realizing that his stomach was beginning to twinge. "Good. Thank you," Kate laughed lightly again, like the tintinnabulation of bells.

"I'm really excited for this one. I think it's going to turn out well this time."

She glanced down at her watch and let out an exclamation of surprise. "Oh! I need to leave right now, or else I'll get caught in traffic!" She stood up on her tiptoes and gave Dudley a peck on the cheek, then darted around him and into the car. She quickly started the engine and, tires squealing, pulled out of the driveway. For a moment Dudley thought he smelled smoke from the wheels, and sincerely hoped Kate would stay out of the way of the police.

Dudley entered the house, set down his briefcase and walked up the stairs to his room. Swiftly changing into something a little more comfortable than a suit, he went back down to look for what Kate had left for dinner. His efforts were cut short, as he was summoned back to the door by a ringing doorbell. Dudley answered it to find Sarah red-faced and beaming, still in her uniform. Turning around, she gave a short wave to her transport, a van with three or four more girls in it. A kind looking middle aged woman was driving it, and seeing that Sarah would indeed be able to get into her house, she gave a quick salute and drove off.

Sarah spent the next ten minutes telling Dudley just how much fun practice had been, and how nice all of the other girls were. Dudley patted her head and told her how happy he was for her and that she should probably go take a bath now. She agreed, saying that even though it was very cold outside, running had made her very warm. She skipped up the stairs to the bathroom.

Dudley entered the kitchen, intent on discovering exactly what Kate had left behind. His only worry was that he might burn it in the microwave, seeing as it had probably cooled since she finished making it. His fears were ungrounded, as Kate had evidently also had extra magical trays. She had left them a bowl of vegetable soup each, along with several homemade breadsticks. Dudley also found a bowl of dip in the fridge, and a box of crackers in one of the cupboards, making him and Sarah a more than sufficient dinner.

They spent a quiet night together. Sarah had found another series of books to read, and was started on them, while Dudley continued with the Series of Unfortunate Events. They were, of course children's books, so he finished the first few in an hour or two each, but they were full of subtle irony, play on words, or pure ridiculous comparisons that made them worth reading. Even though it was, as the title said, a very unfortunate and unhappy series, Dudley found himself laughing out loud several times. Whenever he did Sarah would come over and ask which part he was at. When he told her why he laughed, she usually did too, remembering all of the funny parts.

Before Dudley knew it, it was time to put Sarah to bed. She frowned and crossed her arms, which Dudley knew was a sure sign that it was time for her to go to sleep. Somehow she still seemed to think that by being grumpy, she was proving herself _not _tired. Dudley just laughed at her cute little face and scooped her up into his arms. She laughed at first then realized she was supposed to be indignant. She crossed her arms again.

Dudley carried her up the stairs and deposited her in her bed. After a good deal of pleading, Sarah managed to convince him that she should get to stay up a half hour later, since it was a special night, and that she would only be reading, and he couldn't make her stop reading, because it was good for her brain. Dudley couldn't argue with that, and he laughingly kissed her forehead and turned out the light, but left the lamp on so that she could read.

He backed out of the room and sighed. Returning to the sitting room, he picked up his book again. He read for a paragraph or two, when slowly worries began creeping into his mind. With Sarah there, he could convince himself that he was purposely staying up with Sarah, spending some time together. However, alone in the house, he couldn't help but start worrying about Kate.

Dudley shook his head trying to dismiss his worries, but they were beginning to disconcert him. After a couple of minutes, he found himself reading the same line over and over again, and realized that he was tired, and that he was too worried about Kate's culinary future to continue reading. Sometimes he found a book calming, but now was not one of those times, especially with all of the troubles and worries that the protagonists were facing.

Setting the book down, Dudley stood up. He didn't know what he was going to distract himself with, but reading was no longer an option. He walked over to the bookshelf to see if maybe there was a different book that would be more interesting, but not at all worrying, but there were none. He walked to the window and glanced outside, curious as to if maybe Kate's car would be pulling up anytime soon. Of course, it wasn't. He walked back to the couch and sat down, staring at the blank screen of the television. He could see if there was anything on, but he had been trying to cut down on television ever since…well…about when he got out of the protection of the wizards when he was eighteen, and he didn't want it to become a habit to watch television when he was worried.

He got back up to see if he had missed any books in the bookcase. He hadn't, but he thought he saw something move outside. It could be Kate, returning home! The process started again, but quickly stopped after he remembered just how difficult it had been to get that furrow out of the carpet upstairs from the night Harry went after the last of the deatheaters. Racking his memory again, Dudley finally decided that he had no solution, and went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to do on the computer. He amused himself with Hearts and Solitaire for a little while, and eventually moved onto Freecell. He had never been much good, but he figured that he really needed a way to pass the time. It took him twelve tries to finally beat a game, and by that time, he had wasted one hour.

He was then surprised to find that Freecell kept records of wins and losses, and that right now, considering his older attempts, he had won 5 of all the games he had played. It immediately became a competition between him and the computer. His goal suddenly switched from killing time until Kate got home, to accomplishing something before she arrived; namely, winning ten percent of all the games he had played. He nearly succeeded.

His percentage was a high 9 (he entered the exact record onto his computer's calculator to determine the high part) when he heard the door quietly creak open, and some light feet creep in. Excited, Dudley leapt up, only to realize that it was only an hour from midnight, and that Kate must think that they two of them were both asleep.

Dudley trotted across the kitchen and swung open the door, and was greeted by a shriek from Kate. She nearly dropped the large stack of empty trays she was carrying. "Oh," she sighed, when she saw him. "I thought you were asleep." Her face slowly developed upward into a grin. Pushing past Dudley, she set her stack of trays on the kitchen counter.

"Well?" asked Dudley expectantly. Kate pushed past him again, the corners of her face nearly up past her nose.

"Well what?" she replied nonchalantly, though she was already nearly skipping as she exited the kitchen and began to travel back to the van. Her feigned causality was largely ruined by her gleeful face, and Dudley found her smile to be infectious.

Laughing silently, he clarified, trying to keep his face straight as he followed her back to the van. "Well, how did your catering job that you returned from just a minute ago go?" He cocked one eyebrow.

Kate stood there radiating her joy for a moment, then found it too hard to contain, and exploded. "IT WENT GREAT!" she nearly screamed, jumping around Dudley's neck and hugging him so tight he could hardly breathe.

"That's…wonderful…" he whimpered, forcing his breath through a constricted throat. "But…I'm worried…that…I…may…not…be able to…share…it with…you…if you don't…loosen…up…AACK!" He coughed heavily, and dropped down to a squatting position, hands on his knees as Kate released him.

"Oh no, Dudley, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, and I probably woke up Sarah too…" she glanced to the stairs nervously, rubbing her hands together. "It's just that, I'm, I'm…so happy!" She punctuated her exclamation with a little leap off the ground. She was like a little girl at a playground.

"So…" asked Dudley, still rubbing his throat, "How did it actually go? I want some details." He nodded at her, and she beamed, then sighed happily.

"I don't know where to begin…Everyone was so kind, and complimentary, no one made any messes, the hostess told me that I was by far the best caterer she'd ever had…Oh, and the woman with the black lab was there, except, she didn't bring her lab. Her name was Margaret, and she just started college this year. She's very kind. I think that the people I was serving that time were her real friends, not all of those old and ugly ladies at Marge's." Kate sighed again. "It was like…like having three copies of the Potters over for dinner." Kate nodded, satisfied at her analogy.

"Even James?" snickered Dudley, straightening back up. It was a mistake, as Kate swiftly slapped the back of his head.

"James is a very nice boy," reprimanded Kate. "He's just…energetic. Even he knows how to behave when the appropriate time comes. Come on though, as long as you're awake, you might as well help me unpack." Dudley followed her out of the door to the car.

That was the real start of Kate's catering business. True, she didn't get any more orders for the next three weeks, but she was happy, and she knew that it was only a matter of time. Her next order came in three weeks. Another two passed with another order in coming up. The next month yielded three, which Kate told him was extremely good for any caterer, let alone the very beginning.

Dudley knew everything was going to be alright.


	22. Chapter 22

**Sorry, folks, but I'm not going to describe Dustin's visit home during Christmas. While it may not seem like anything, this story is following a plotline, and Dustin's return home is irrelevant. Let's just say they had lots of fun.**

--

It was three months after Kate's real catering job, and now her business was in full swing. It was ferocious March night, and though the wind was chilly and cut through clothes as if they weren't there, the Dursley household was warm and comfortable, if a bit ominously lit. Sarah had gone to bed several hours ago, and Dudley was sitting in his favorite comfy chair, feet propped up by the crackling fire, reading a mystery novel.

Dudley put his book down for a second, to look into the fire, and contemplate the significance of a new clue the detective had discovered, a simple mistake by a common and very corrupt mortuary. Dudley stared at the fire, wondering what the significance could be. Dudley's contemplative and serious mood was slightly ruined as he realized how stereotypical of mystery novel readers he looked at that moment. Sitting in a room with a warm, but controlled fire, feet in simple slippers, the wind whipping against the house outside, he was even wearing a reddish robe and reading glasses. He had gotten them early in his youth, but obviously never used them, and completely forgot that he needed them until several weeks ago when his eyes started to hurt after he was forced to read a particularly long and boring memo for work.

Dudley was actually thinking about quitting his job. With all the money coming in from Kate's new business, his income was becoming almost irrelevant. Additionally, with all of the new success of the firm, it was becoming one of the rising stars of independent English insurance firms (admittedly a small category). With all of the new customers, came more paperwork, more meetings, and less personal connections. The firm was in the uncomfortable position between a large business with different sectors, and a small and personal firm, that could help everyone out. Ironically, Dudley himself had brought this success with his popular ad (among wizards and muggles).

As if only to complicate the firms unfortunate situation, the firm kept getting strange cases they didn't know to deal with. ("Does a broomstick count as a vehicle? I'm not sure it's licenced, but I did buy it!" "Does your firm cover cauldron burns?") Of course, the receptionists were fairly competent and they would usually be able to tell those few weird customers what they could and couldn't pay for, but still, it caused a bit of a hassle.

Dudley focused his view on a single brick above the fire, and realized that his thoughts had drifted from his original thought pattern to something completely different, like an untied boat from a beach. He needed to focus more on the story. What could the clue mean? It was a very simple object, just a metallic pendant, shaped like twin spikes of varying lenghts. Dudley scratched his head curiously, and glanced around the room, trying to think. Outside the window, the winds howled and screamed, and icicles hanging precariously from the gutter began to sway, tinkling like wind chimes. As he watched one of them fall, Dudley slowly began to piece two and two together when suddenly…

"BAM!" The door swung open, propelled by the wind, smashing into the wall, its momentum forcefully brought to a halt by a small piece of plastic designed for that purpose. Dudley jumped two feet in the air, his book dropping to his feet, landing spine up, pages ruffling out like a king's crest.

Framed perfectly in the doorway, stood Kate. She was adorned in black jeans, a thick fleece cardigan, a red hat with matching scarf, and a huge smile. Her cheeks and nose were bright red, seemingly stealing warmth from the rest of her face, which was slightly pale from the cold. Dudley let out a gentle sigh of relief.

"How did it go?" asked Dudley, bending to pick up his dropped book. Kate had been gone on another catering job, one of the largest she had had so far. It was for a public function, some kind of political rally, rather than some small private party, meaning that she needed more food and was probably paid less, but got far more public exposure.

"It went beautifully," she sighed. "Come on, we've got to unload the car." Dudley groaned but heaved himself up and slipped into some boots. That was the one part of Kate's career he didn't support. The cleanup. He had asked Harry if it would be legal to buy automatically cleaning plates and utensils, but Harry told him that while those would be fine for him to have at the house, Kate wouldn't be able to use them at any of her parties. The magically hot or cold plates wouldn't arouse too much suspicion, but guests might become suspicious about why the plates never get dirty no matter how much dressing they pour onto it.

Dudley slipped out to the car, squinting his eyes, so as not to be hit by the icy snow blustering around, propelled by the murderous gusts of wind. He couldn't tell if it was snowing or if the wind was just picking snow up off the ground. Feeling a chunk of ice too large to fall from the sky strike his cheek, Dudley guessed that it was mostly the latter. Looking through the trunk, Dudley's eyes settled on a pot of tomato sauce. Knowing that its magical container would be keeping it warm, Dudley picked it up, enjoying the feeling of the warmth seeping back into his hands. Of course, the violent winds had already numbed his hands, so even on the very hot pan, they still felt cold.

Dudley turned and marched back to the house. Along the way, he tried to ask Kate for details, but she couldn't hear him, and he couldn't hear her over the wind, so Dudley gave it up for later. He set the pot down in the kitchen, rubbed his hands together, hoping for some last semblance of warmth, and set out again into the storm.

Ten minutes later, everything was unloaded into one gigantic mess on the kitchen counters and table. Both he and Kate had gone for the warm dishes first, so as to protect their hands, but in a matter of time, all of those were gone, leaving only cold salads and deserts. Dudley was, for the first time he could remember, glad to be washing dishes, thanks to the stream of hot water flowing over his hands.

"So," he asked, determined to get details, "How did it go, in more depth? Do you think many more people are interested now?"

"Everything went perfectly," she stated, matter-of-factly. "By the time deserts were served, people were taking as many flyers and information cards as they were taking the sweets. As a matter of fact, a member of the House of Commons was there as a surprise guest, and when he gave a speech, he thanked everyone who set it up, specifically the host, the decorators, and the caterer!"

"That's a pretty important endorsement," agreed Dudley. "You'll be serving the Prime Minister in no time!" They laughed for a few moments, and went back to work. They went over more small details, like the success of various dishes. Dudley was sometimes surprised by the general consensus of the public, but he liked them all, and could easily see how any of them could be the most popular. Kate explained that she had stayed after to help clean up, which was partially the reason she was late. As they finished up the last of the dishes, she added on one final detail.

"It was interesting…I think I saw one of the women from my first party at the convention."

"One of the college students?" asked Dudley, drying his hands on a towel.

"Pardon?" asked Kate, with a confused look adorning her features. "What college stu…Oh…Oh, no, not that party. My very first party!" She laughed that Dudley had not even considered her very first event, after how it went.

"You mean the one at Marge's?" asked Dudley. He wouldn't be surprised about one of the young students Kate had served at her first successful party to be there, but it was interesting that one of the crotchety old and unpleasant ladies from Marge's was. "Which one? The one with the chihuahua?"

"No…" replied Kate, obviously trying to remember which dog the woman she saw had, "I think she had the poodle. She looked like some kind of alien, remember? She had so much plastic surgery that her expression was completely locked."

Dudley struggled for a moment with his memory. Glancing up to the ceiling, he finally remembered. "Oh yes…the blonde one. She looked like she belonged in California, or one of those other popular American states. Everyone there is mostly plastic anyway."

Kate nodded her agreement. "I didn't have the chance to talk to her, nor would I have utilized it if I acquired one. Frankly, I'd rather leave her to herself." Kate smiled as she stowed the last dish in the washer. She poured some extra-strong soap in and set it to thorough. You could never know what some people left on their plates.

Kate walked out of the kitchen, stumbling a bit on the doorjamb. She looked very tired, though energetic at the same time. All in all, she seemed very satisfied. She spun on the spot when she reached the sitting room, and collapsed backwards into her usual chair. Its softness absorbed her, and she began to slowly sink down, a peaceful look on her face. Dudley followed her out, amused.

"No more jobs for two weeks…" sighed Kate. "I love doing this, but it can get a bit tiring after a while."

Dudley could only agree. It was tiring for him just to have Kate gone from the house, having to take care of cleaning and making sure Sarah got where she needed to be, and he could only imagine actually going to all of the events, serving the food, and dealing with all of the boring and ignorant people. Most people weren't like that, but Kate usually ran into one or two every job.

She wiped her face with her hands, trying to scrub the tiredness from her eyes. She didn't really need to considering how late it was, and how all she needed was to get to sleep anyway. She quickly realized the futility of her actions. "Dudley," she said. "I need a shower, but then I think I'm going to go straight to bed. I feel a little guilty about not writing Dustin back, but you can tell him I said 'Hello'"

"Oh, did Dustin write again?" asked Dudley, glancing around for the mail. He hadn't noticed any before.

"That's right," said Kate, slapping her forehead. "You left right before the letter arrived. We called you to come back, but it was too late, so I just put it on the fireplace. Dudley looked up, and there was indeed a thin, yellowing scroll of parchment tied up by a similarly colored string. It was funny that he hadn't noticed it before, especially considering how he had been looking at or around the fireplace most of that evening.

"Thanks, Kate," said Dudley, untying the string and turning around, but he could already hear her turning on the shower upstairs.

_Hello Mum and Dad,_

_I'm so glad that your catering business is getting off of the ground. I always knew that Mum wouldn't be happy until she got to share her food with more people. Tell me more about what's going on back home. Not much really happens here. Everything is so much more exciting in the places you aren't, if you know what I mean. I'm sure that you must think that everything is much more exciting here, which would make sense, especially since this is a place full of magic and witchcraft, but all we do is go to classes. I want to hear what you are doing and Sarah too._

_Now that I think about it, something did happen this week. Professor Binns died. Or well, not really because he's a ghost, but I think he finally realized it. He's been giving the same lectures for so long that he couldn't even tell when he died or not. I think it might have been my fault, ad I feel kind of bad._

_It was during this one class when he was talking about one of the Great Goblin Revolutions, and I asked him if the political treaties created in the last ones were nullified, or simply ignored for the purpose of new war. He immediately told me that they were simply ignored, but then he stopped for a moment and stared past me out the window. I think I drew is attention to it by making him look up. Anyway, then he said "I didn't realize it was winter…Perhaps I have been too focused on my lectures…" then he looked at the calendar and realized the date. He shook his head and went back to lecturing, but apparently, the next day he realized that he should have been dead for decades, and then figured out that he was dead after all._

_He's taking the week off to deal with this revelation. We have a new substitute teacher. He's named Mr. Orgill, and he's really funny. He also makes me so much more interested in history. He actually interacts with the students._

_Anyway, Teddy got in trouble again. I think he was sneaking out with a homemade invisibility cloak that he made as some project, but invisibility cloaks are ridiculously hard to make, so Filch could still see him. Filch was determined to give him a whipping, citing some old ordinance that was repealed in 1520 that students must be whipped with ten strokes for each time the break the rules, with the strokes accumulating. He calculated Teddy to deserve 1040 this time, but of course, as always Professor Elihphile turned him down. I don't think Teddy was that scared either, Filch is getting really old. His whippings wouldn't hurt very much._

_Anyway, hoping you're well_

_ Dustin_

_P.S. Write back soon!_

Dudley smiled at the new P.S. that came consistently after every letter. It was only a few weeks ago that Harry found out that Dustin was also keeping in occasional contact with the Potters and Weasleys, so Dudley figured that he must really want to know what was going on outside of where he was. He was so friendly too. Dudley sighed, in an increasingly common moment of deep parental pride.

Dudley set the letter down on the table as a reminder to write back the next morning before he went to work. He wanted to respond at that very moment, but knew that he was too tired to make much sense. Besides, as long as he woke up before the mail came, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Dudley walked over to the small table near the end of the couch and picked up his book again. With a forlorn resignation, he finished the last page of the chapter and put removed his red tasseled bookmark from several chapters earlier, depositing it in his new stopping point. He wanted to read another chapter, it was an exciting book, but he also wanted to have some semblance of awareness at work the next morning, and to be awake enough to write Dustin. Sighing, he closed the book gently and ascended the stairs. The book was interesting, but right now, sleep was a more pressing need.

Kate was taking a long shower, and he couldn't blame her after an equally long day, but the bedroom door proved an effective muffler, and he was asleep before she came in.


	23. Chapter 23

_Dear Mum, Dad,_

_Everything is still going fine at Hogwarts. Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote. A few people have begun to panic over the end terms which are coming up soon, but I'm not too worried. I'm still a first year, so I don't really have anything especially hard. Do you remember what I told you about Prof. Binns? Well, I think he's finally come to terms with the fact that he's dead, and he actually sees it as an opportunity now. He thanked me in the halls yesterday for helping him come to that realization, and he says he's so much happier now. He told me that he decided to take a long vacation. They counted up all of his vacation days, and since he never took one, and there's some really old rule that says that they can add up over the years, he's planning on spending the next three years and seventy-two days out of the country as paid vacation time._

_Mr. Orgill is still really fun. Last week he had us role play goblin society during the mid thirteenth century. Everyone picked roles out of a hat, and I got to be King! (or at least, Grksae, which means king in ancient Czech goblin) There are really a lot more languages than I thought. I stayed after class one time to talk to Mr. Orgill about what he thought I should take next year in History of Magic, and he recommended three different classes! He says that I probably shouldn't take them all, and I kind of agree with him, but they all seem really interesting, and so I'm going to have a hard time choosing. The different classes he wants me to take are History of Human-Magical Species Relations, History of the Wand and its Makers, and History of Wizard-Muggle Interactions. The last one is only for third years and above, but he says that an exceptional historian like me could do it pretty easily. I think that he's exaggerating my abilities, but he's sure that he's right. Anyway, tell me what class (or classes) you think I should take!_

_Love,_

_ Dustin_

Dudley read this letter on a Friday night, sitting in the back of the Catermobile, as it had come to be called (mostly by Sarah). Kate was driving quickly and a bit recklessly, impatient to get to another event she was catering. He had arrived home from work at five, as per norm, only to have Kate berate him over his tardiness. She pointed out that normally, he was home and unpacked by five, instead of just walking in the door. She had been irascible for the first minute or so as they packed food into the magically enlarged van, until Dudley asked if Dustin had sent them anything back.

It had been several weeks since Kate's last major event, as she had anticipated, and they had corresponded with Dustin a reasonable amount during that time. The last week was a little hard because Dustin was busy with school activities that entire time, and had not been able to write to them. It was because of the long absence from his letters that Dudley was able to pull Kate from her bad mood by inquiring about it.

Kate was so irritable because this public event was even bigger than the last, and because she didn't have Sarah with her to calm her down. Sarah, though out of her tranquil, dreamy phase, still had a remarkable soothing influence on anyone she wanted to calm. Unfortunately, Sarah was spending a weekend over at the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and all of their children and grandchildren. Kate and Dudley were invited as well, but they had politely declined because of Kate's catering obligation.

Dudley was rudely jerked from his memories as his head slammed into the window, because Kate took a roundabout too fast. Dudley was worried that they would tip over for a moment, until he remembered that the Catermobile had more than enlarging enchantments on it.

A few minutes later, they arrived, as Kate cut off an oncoming car and swerved around into an open parking space, the wheels screeching to a stop. Dudley had a vague thought that if he ever had to commit a crime; he could securely rely on Kate to be his getaway driver. He stumbled dizzily out, nearly tripping on the curb.

Kate stepped out and walked briskly and with perfect balance to the back, swung open the doors, and withdrew a large silver dish that Dudley recognized to contain a hummus dip. "Come on," she quipped, striding away as if she hadn't just been driving madly through rush hour traffic. Dudley shook his head to clear it, and then bravely picked up a tray of vegetables. He nearly fell flat onto his face walking up the steps.

As always, Dudley and Kate managed to finish setting up everything a good hour and a half before the first guest arrived. Dudley looked eagerly over the olfactory feast, wishing he could make it a meal for more than his nose. They were catering for a charity auction, so during the time they had left over, they helped everyone else set up for it. After everything was done, they met with the arranger of the auction, a certain, respectable, Mr. Grey. He was very wealthy, and his eyes were extremely dark blue, almost purple, but other than that he was so very uninteresting that in it he was almost fascinating.

His eyes stared past them as they introduced themselves, almost as if he wasn't seeing them at all. His voice was bland and drab, almost robotic. He spoke in a monotone, and no matter how passionate he claimed to be about charity, he never put any emotion in his words. Needless to say, their conversation with him was short.

Then came the guests. All of them seemed ludicrously rich, and there was a line of limos stretching for several blocks. Kate seemed just as surprised as Dudley as to how much wealth they were serving to. They had expected a much more average attendance. Kate was ecstatic.

"Dudley!" she hissed, even though no one else would be able to hear her over the clamor from the front doors anyway, "Do you see this? Do you realize just how amazing this is?" She didn't wait for an answer. Instead, she jumped from the ground like a cartoon character realizing something important, and hurried back to the catering table to shine some of the trays. Most of them were already gleaming magically anyway.

Valets in gold-trimmed suit coats took the guests thick fur coats, kissed their hands, and assigned them a bidding number as they flaunted in. Most of the guests were old rich women, wearing ridiculous fluffy hats larger than the seats that the women sat in. Their dresses were nearly every color imaginable, and most of them were in bad taste. Dudley was also amazed at how the women could bear to carry so much jewelry around on their person. Some looked so frail that he was afraid that their arm would snap off every time they extended their heavy bejeweled hands out. Others of course, Dudley wondered not how they could support their jewelry, but how the floor could support them.

A few of them dragged along husbands, mostly short gentlemen in black coats and pants, none of them eager to be there. Dudley thought that he saw one with a monocle, but, if he truly did exist, he was gone before Dudley could take a second look. Dudley made a resolution to find him when everyone was sitting down. After a few minutes of pushing and shoving, everyone was seated, and Mr. Grey gave a short speech, in a mode similar to the way he had talked to Dudley and Kate, which put many of the women to tears, and most of the men to sleep. For a moment, after Mr. Grey said he was finished, Dudley straightened up eagerly, but he turned out to be the first of six speakers.

Dudley glanced at Kate occasionally throughout the different introductory speeches, but she seemed just as bored as he was, and it made Dudley glad. He had married a real woman. They were both leaning against a rich mahogany column on the outer wall, just out of the lights. No one had called for dinner yet, so they had nothing to do during the speeches.

Finally, after the last speaker had left the stage, Mr. Grey resumed it. "Soon is the time we begin the bidding," he droned, "but first, a bite of food." It was clearly a sentence meant to have an exclamation point on it, especially because of the accompanying flash of lights towards the laid out catering tables, but his voice made no indication.

A small band began to play from the pit beneath the stage, as waiters identically suited waiters with their hands behind their backs marched out in straight lines, an exact measurement of a meter or so between each one. They split off from their lines and each stood at about the one-o-clock position at their patron's table. It was perfectly choreographed, and completely ridiculous. Dudley groaned. He felt like he was in a musical from the fifties.

He didn't have time for such idle pursuits for long though, as within a few minutes, the waiters had taken orders and zoomed up to the catering table in perfect unison. Even their feet were in time with each other and the music. It was like a marching band, except full of waiters.

Whatever else could be said about the unpleasant rich people occupying all of the tables, speaking loudly and bragging rudely, no one could say they were discriminating in their tastes. Every dish that Kate had prepared had order after order for it, even some of the new experimental ones she had only just invented. Dudley, as he always did at events, listened to all of the conversation, listening for complaints, or possible suggestions about the food. There were many of both, but Dudley discounted most of them, mostly because the rich, grown-up brats would argue and complain for the sake of contention alone. Dudley counted five occasions in which one of the patrons whined that their personal chef could do so much better, and yet everyone was devouring the food as if they had only just emerged from a year long fast.

After an hour or so of an interesting mixture of high class environment and low class manners, an auctioneer stepped up. He was a very prim man, in his early old age. His moustache reminded Dudley of Vernon's, although it was a little smaller, and entirely white. Dudley was glad that Mr. Grey wasn't doing the auctioneering. Even though he could claim the responsibility, with his uninteresting tone and lethargic pace, they would be there all night.

"Ahem," the auctioneer cleared his throat. The patrons were still eager to eat, but they were even more excited to prove their prosperity to their peers with extravagant displays of money wasting. For the first time since it was served, they politely pushed the food away, and the waiters reemerged, this time, in contrast to their first appearance, impressively silent and unnoticeable.

"I would introduce you to this auction, but that has already been done most admirably by Mr. Grey. Therefore, I will we will begin the auction with this contemporary self-portrait of a Madam…" He spoke on, but Dudley was already losing interest. He had to admit that the auctioneer was more interesting the Mr. Grey, but he seemed like a butler from one of the many movies he had seen about rich people. He was not boring, but not particularly interesting either. Additionally, Dudley couldn't understand why a person would want the self-portrait of a rather ugly woman hanging on their walls. Nonetheless, the final bid peaked at around 18,000. Even though he didn't want to be, Dudley had to admit he was impressed.

The next item was a "modern" sculpture, which was a small clock with some paint thrown on it. Dudley scoffed when they suggested that the start the bidding well over what Kate was being paid for the night, but was once again grudgingly impressed by how high it sold for.

And so the parade went on. Useless object after meaningless trinket were sold for more than Dudley made in a year. Every conceivable decoration went on sale, from 1950's kitsch to futuristic looking gadgetry. The pure, sleek white pod that looked like some kind of ultramodern time capsule was what impressed Dudley most, but he was sorely disappointed when he discovered that all it did was house shoes.

The night continued, and Dudley got tired. They were, of course, obligated to stay until the end, and they hadn't been paid anyway, but Dudley was still had a small desire to leave. He was glad that Sarah was with the Potters, and not some random babysitter. He had a strange feeling they were going to be there much longer.

He was right. By item thirty-four, he was slouching considerably. By item forty-five, he was resting his head on his elbows. By item fifty-six, his head was touching the table, and his eyes were staring blankly at the auctioneer. By item sixty-seven, he was all but asleep.

Finally, at item number ninety-five, which was the last item, Kate poked him awake. "Dudley…" she said, looking slightly confused. "Isn't…isn't that the woman from Aunt Marge's party?" Dudley looked blearily up. He couldn't see clearly at first, after so much near sleep in the dim lights, his eyes weren't exactly aquiline, but after a few seconds, he could distinguish the people's shapes, and then which shape Kate was pointing to, and then the woman herself.

It was indeed the woman with the stiff plastic mask for a face. She was raising her number, thirteen, and bidding on the final item, a cage of two Icelandic owls. Dudley found this extremely odd, as at Aunt Marge's party, despite the fact that she had enough money for surgeries, she had not struck him as particularly wealthy. He was obviously wrong as she was now bidding…He turned to the auctioneer to check what the price was.

"Ah, yes, number thirteen, do we have nine hundred fifty thousand? Yes, the man in the back, number forty eight. Will we make it an even million? Yes, back to number thirteen? One million fifty thousand? Number forty eight?"

Dudley's jaw nearly dropped, though he managed to stop it. She must have been ridiculously wealthy. He watched in increasing astonishment as she fought with number forty eight (who Dudley delightedly noted was the man with the monocle) as the price steadily increased. She was obviously more determined than him, as whenever he bid, she raised her number immediately to counter, while he always had to think for a minute before raising his number again. At about 1.5 million, Dudley noticed an annoyed expression creep onto the face of the bemonocled man, while the woman from Marge's party kept her face smiling and impassive. Dudley doubted she could frown if she wanted to, but still, her smile seemed genuine.

At two million, the man with the monocle was evidently in deep thought, and didn't raise his number until the auctioneer had said, "Going once, going twice,". At 2.3 million. His number shot up and he yelled out.

"That's my final offer!"

There was silence for a moment or two. It took Dudley a while to realize it, but the man was standing on his chair. He wondered for how long the man had been doing it, as Dudley hadn't noticed. He was not very tall, to say the least. "…we…have two point three million. Do we have two point four million? Anyone?" continued the auctioneer gingerly. "Going once," everyone's eyes turned to the center of the room, where the woman from Marge's party sat. "Going twice…" there was a collective intake of breath, as quietly, almost meekly, number thirteen rose above the crowd.

The monocled man exploded with fury, swearing loudly and jumping from his chair. Without any goodbye, he stormed off towards the door, his far taller wife following him, her nose in the air and her hand daintily resting on her breast.

Dudley heard the door slam around the corner. The man had left. The crowd erupted into cheers. The woman from Dudley's party graciously got up to the stage to be recognized.

Dudley looked around, confused at all the commotion. He grabbed a passing waiter, who, like the crowd, looked ecstatic. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why all the excitement?"

"Ms. Delaria just outbid Mr. Joutour! No one ever out bids Mr. Joutour!" He did a happy little dance. "For years, he's been getting the top pick of everything he wants at the auctions. He's finally been…" The waiter paused, looking for the mot juste. "…Overthrown!" He marched primly off before Dudley could question him further, although there was a bounce to his step Dudley had not noticed before.

"Hmm…" thought Dudley, leaning back up against the wall, "Looks like our old friend has gained a lot more popularity…though these folks don't look a lot better than the people at Marge's party." Kate noted the sarcasm, and reprimanded him with a soft slap to the arm.

"Dudley, just because she went to Aunt Marge's party doesn't mean she's a horrible person. I mean Margaret, you remember Margaret, the woman with the lab, she went to the party too."

"Well, yeah," replied Dudley, laughing that Kate was taking offense from his simple remark, "but she obviously didn't enjoy herself, and she was very kind to us, remember?" He put special emphasis on the last word.

"Dudley, I don't think either of us saw what she did at that party, or if she enjoyed it. Besides, I don't think you're in any position to judge her until you've bid two point four million for charity." She had a point, and Dudley quickly shut his mouth, strangling whatever response he was considering retaliating with.

It was a good thing he did, for at that moment, Ms. Delaria was descending the stairs. She noticed Kate and Dudley at the main table, and with the spark of recognition in her eyes, she let out a small gasp of delight and strode over. Dudley noticed that she was very tall, even without the high heels she was wearing.

"Kate!" she exclaimed. Dudley was mildly surprised that she knew either of them by sight, and not by face recognition. He was also startled that she was walking over to them. The most he expected her to do was maybe a cold nod in their direction, if that.

Kate was as alarmed. "Oh no…" she whispered, biting her lip and rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, racking her mind to remember the woman's name. Dudley hadn't even thought of trying. He wasn't sure if he had heard her name at Marge's party, and was completely sure he wouldn't remember it if he did. Besides, Marge's party was a thing he preferred to forget.

The woman stopped in front of them, waiting expectantly for Kate's greeting. "Agatha!" exploded Kate, hoping she was right.

"Agnes," corrected the woman. "Agnes Delaria. What a coincidence to see you here! Oh, and this must be your husband." She held out her hand eagerly to him. Dudley gingerly took it and wobbled it gently. He still didn't know about Agnes. True, she was generous with her money, but she seemed snobbish at the party, and very kind and hospitable here. At very least she was duplicitous. "And your name is…" she prompted, startling him out of his reverie.

"Dudley," he replied carefully.

She sighed happily. "What a fortuitous meeting! I was just thinking about you the other day, but I didn't know how to get a hold of you. You see, even though I'll admit I was a little unfriendly the first time you met, I assure you I was only shy in the company of such horrible people." Dudley snorted, though she ignored it. She didn't seem very shy to him.

"Then, the second time we met, I talked to you just because I recognized you, but I don't think Dudley was there for that time." She barely even glanced at him. It was obvious that her words were only meant for Kate, though Kate didn't notice. "I was thinking about taking one of those brochures you had there and calling you up sometime, but I thought to myself, 'She's a very nice person who you might want to be friends with, but when are you going to need a caterer anytime soon?'" Dudley was thinking about pointing out that you could be friends with someone even if they weren't any use to you, but Agnes certainly had a propensity for small talk. "And as it turned out," she continued, her hands moving to her hips, "That very night, a friend of mine called me and asked, 'Agnes, me and my friends were planning on going to London for a week or two, and we don't have anywhere to stay!' and of course I said, 'Oh, of course you can stay with me!' but then she said 'My friends and I were planning on holding a celebration the first day we were there!' And I said, 'Well, you're in luck because I just met the nicest caterer, and she would be happy to cater for you!' and then we talked a little while more, but none of that is important, so I hung up, but then I remembered that I had never taken your number!"

Dudley was impressed by her lung capacity. She finally took a long breath and said, "So anyway, I'm very glad I found you, or else I would have to go with one of those second-rate caterers." Kate beamed from the compliment. "The party is next Saturday and…ohh…uh oh…is one week enough time to prepare?"

Kate's smile fell a little. She put up her fingers, counting off the days. "It's not going to be a very big party," Agnes offered hopefully.

"No…don't worry…I think it's okay…yeah, it'll be fine!" exclaimed Kate, remembering her schedule. "My next party after this wasn't for another month anyway, so I have the free time."

"Great," soothed Agnes. "I'm so glad. Here, I'll take one of these brochures you have right here, and find out the details, and call you, okay?" Kate nodded in agreement, but Agnes groaned. "I think I have to go now. It seems that after my big 'purchase' everyone wants to know me better. They're such fakes." Dudley glanced to where she was gesturing, and indeed there were a crowd of guests standing at the end of the table, hailing her like a cab. Dudley had to admit that it would be tiresome, but he had a hard time believing that she wouldn't enjoy bragging to all of her friends just how rich she was.

"Well, I guess I'll just call you!" she concluded, as she whipped a brochure from off the tray, and trotted off towards her growing crowd of fans. Dudley watched her for a second. He glanced up at the stage, but no one was there. It was clear there were to be no closing speakers, as all of the patrons were on their feet, and waiters were clearing the tablecloths from the tables.

"Come on, Dudley," said Kate, picking up a tray, although Dudley couldn't tell if she was telling him to help her, or to be a little less distrusting to Agnes. "Help me move these back to the car." He picked up a deep silver dish. As he left the room, he took one fleeting look back to Agnes, and discovered that she had turned her attention away from the crowd and was looking at her shoulder at them too. There was an emotion in her eyes that Dudley couldn't exactly determine. Looking more closely, he hazarded a guess at…Triumph?

Shaking his head, he reverted it to its normal position and exited the door, trying to clear Agnes from his mind.

**Microsoft Word says that bemonocled isn't a word. It should be.**

**Anyway, since this chapter was so long, I should get extra reviews!**


	24. Chapter 24

It was the Friday, the day before Kate was going to cater for Agnes. She had called the day after the party to confirm what she wanted, and where. Her requests had been very modest, as even Dudley was forced to grudgingly agree. He wanted to make the argument that she was just being stingy, but that was obviously no longer valid after the auction. They hadn't heard from her since then, so she faded out of conversation, though Dudley would occasionally bring up a new theory as to why she might be suddenly so friendly. Of course, Kate always shot it down immediately. He had to admit that there wasn't much evidence that she had a single mean bone in her body, other than the first party at Marge's.

By about midweek, Dudley only suggested new theories as jokes, as they were always extremely ridiculous, (Aliens! Government Buyout Conspiracy!) and Dudley found that even he had taken a weak liking to Agnes, if only because she was someone he could poke fun at.

By Friday, he had completely forgotten even his suspicion. He was Sarah's first football _(Remember they're in England) _game of the year, bundled up in several layers, his nose buried in his coat. It was far too early and far too cold to start any sports, but the date had already been set for a long time, and he could only imagine the horror of the parents association if anything went off schedule. He was just waiting for it to be over so that he could take Sarah home. He could only imagine how cold and unpleasant it must be for her, in only a light athletic jersey and shorts.

The wind blew again, and he could nearly feel the moisture and warmth seeping from his face where it was exposed. He burrowed his head further into the thick popped collar of his coat, leaving only his eyes exposed. He glanced to his right, to Harry.

Harry was standing beside him, clothed in a thick woolen trench coat. It looked slightly warmer than Dudley's coat, but the collar was low, so his face had no protection. Still, Harry did not even try to shelter his face. He stared on unblinkingly into the wind, as if staring it down. It was only after a moment of thought that Dudley realized that he had the advantage of glasses covering his eyes. If Dudley looked into the wind, his eyes would tear up until he couldn't see.

The game was almost over, and Sarah's team was winning 4-1. She had personally scored two of the points. Dudley was very proud, but he found it hard to feel anything but discomfort in the harsh conditions.

Dudley was planning on going back with Harry to the Burrow for a nice dinner, just him and Sarah and the Weasleys. Of course, with all the different brands of Weasley, (Potter, Delacour-Weasley, Johnson-Weasley, etc…)(_**A.N. They don't have both names as their last name, those are just the people the Weasleys married)**_ it was sure to be a hectic evening. He could only hope that the chaos would be fairly well contained.

Harry had come over a little earlier in the day, to catch up with Dudley, as Kate's catering had kept them busy for a few months, and Harry's life wasn't exactly calm either. Dudley had told him that Sarah had to go to a game, and Harry had been more than eager to go. He told Dudley that he hadn't seen any real sport but Quidditch for the past twenty years, at least. Throughout the game he had been drilling Dudley on various rules and regulations, or positions.

"I can't believe that I thought this was interesting when I was young," remarked Harry, still trying not to be rude. "Quidditch just seems a lot more worthwhile." Dudley chuckled.

"Well, I don't know if I want my daughter rocketing around on a broom hundreds of feet off the ground for another few years, at least. She's reckless enough as it is." Sarah had indeed, grown more daring in the past few months as Kate was gone. She had sprained her wrist once, and nearly hurt herself more seriously several times. Dudley was quite glad that, in case of emergency, he had more than Muggle doctors to take her to.

"So, how's Kate's business going?" asked Harry, obviously eager to occupy himself with small talk instead of thinking about the harsh wind. "I mean…is she being received well? Are people being nice to her?"

"Oh, yes," replied Dudley, though his voice was muffled by his coat, making it sound like he was in a different room. He winced and uncovered his head, though he feared that if his lip got much drier, it might split. "It's going fine. Originally, the problem was that no one knew about us, so we didn't get many orders. Still whenever we did get one, everyone there always told us that our food was great. Our only challenge was that we were largely unknown. Now, though, she's catered enough parties that people are recommending her, and there are more orders. Of course, even the most successful catering business doesn't need to get an order every day, so I think that the level we're at now is okay."

"That's good," said Harry. "You know, I always thought that food could only be so good, and that no matter how well prepared it was, once it reached a certain point, like the Halloween feast at Hogwarts, or Mrs. Weasley's cooking, it couldn't really get any better. Having dinner with you changed that opinion though. I'm really curious to see what she would do with wizard ingredients. Wizard ingredients almost always have more…interesting tastes. If used appropriately, they can be really, amazingly good."

"Yeah…" agreed Dudley. "Those cakes she makes with pixie honey are amazing, but still it was a lot of paperwork to be able to distribute them. I don't know if I want to go through all of that over and over and over again for each new ingredient she wants."

"The paperwork wouldn't be too much of a problem," admitted Harry, "even though the ministry does like it. I can just ask Isabelle Delaria to get you a bulk distribution document. It wouldn't be so hard."

Dudley thought for a second, his hand rubbing his very dry lips. "Delaria?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Yeah," confirmed Harry, "Isabelle Delaria. She works down in Muggle-Wizard relations. I believe she's the one you'd want to talk to."

Dudley pondered for a moment more, curious about the relation, if any between Agnes and Isabelle. It was certainly intriguing. Of course, he had long since dismissed any doubts that Agnes was anyone other than whom she said she was, and the wizarding gene could go a long time before it resurfaced. They could be second, or third cousins maybe. He was startled out of his musings by a sharp whistle, signaling the end of the game.

Sarah jumped and ran over to Dudley, hugging him fiercely around the legs. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. "We won! Did you see my goals? I did so well! On the first one I thought I wasn't going to make it, but then Ashley came running up beside me and distracted the goalie so I could make the shot and…Daddy! Did you see it? Did you see all of them?"

"Yes, I saw them both!" he replied. "You did really well! I didn't know that you were so fast!"

"Daddy…" sighed Sarah. "I scored three times! I got another goal in the last minute. Weren't you watching?" Dudley glanced rapidly over to Harry, who mouthed and shrugged an apology.

"Uh…" stuttered Dudley, "I'm sorry, I didn't I was talking to Harry. But still, I'm sure it was great. You're really becoming a little star! Now come on, we've got to go to the Burrow. We're having dinner there, because Mum is out catering."

"Okay," replied Sarah cheerily, obviously not overly put out that Dudley didn't see her goals. She began to skip cheerily towards the parking lot.

"You know," said Harry, turning towards the cars, "I could just apparate you both. It would be a little painful, but it is an hour long car ride to the Burrow."

"No thanks," replied Dudley vehemently. "I've experienced that once, and once is enough. I'll take the car ride anytime."

"Eh, it's not so bad when you get used to it," replied Harry as he stepped into the front seat, passenger side of Dudley's car. Sarah was already buckling her seatbelt. Dudley rolled his eyes doubtfully and stepped in as well. He put the key in the ignition and gave it a crank. The ignition gave a little resistance, which was an unfortunate feature that was beginning to annoy him more and more as time went on. He made a mental note to see if there was a pebble stuck there sometime. He twisted again, careful not to break the key, and the car growled into motion with a metallic gurgling.

They pulled out of the parking lot, Sarah waving backwards at her still cheering teammates, as they turned onto the main road, and eventually the highway. It was silent for the first few minutes, as they all waited impatiently for the heater to kick in. That was one thing that Dudley liked better about heat than cold. If it was too hot, putting your head in a bucket of ice would instantly cool you off, but if it was cold, putting your head on a heater only gave you burns, and you were too numb to feel much warmer.

Slowly but surely, like a river of molasses, the heat brought everyone back to a comfortable temperature, and Dudley turned on the radio for a traffic report. He found it quickly, but passed a great old song that he used to know, and Dudley quickly flipped back. Sarah thought the music was a little silly, as she said, but Dudley thoroughly enjoyed it, and even Harry began to laugh as Dudley rocked from side to side, softly scatting the melody.

When the song ended, Dudley still did not feel appeased. He flicked through channel after channel, trying to find something good, with only marginal success. After a few minutes, Harry suggested, "Why don't you try WBN 109.328?"

"What?" asked Dudley confused. "How do you change the letters? I've never heard of that station."

"But that station is the biggest…Oh…wait, I forgot, this is an ordinary radio. Well, that's no problem, thanks to this quick charm Hermione taught me." He produced his wand smugly, then faltered. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the radio.

"Go ahead!" confirmed Dudley. Even though he had been around wizards for a long time now, he was still excited at any prospect of magic, and actually owning a magical radio would be something he very much desired.

Harry wove his wand in a figure eight and gave the radio a tap. "Transpervo," he muttered. Dudley could barely hear it over the humming of the car engine, but he thought that there was a muffled tinkling of moving metal inside the radio for a few moments. "There!" said Harry. "It's that simple. Now it responds to intent more than action, so it will always find the station you're looking for."

He gingerly rotated the dial. It spun out of his grip and did a few more rotations, like a compass on a stormy sea, before it finally settled on a station. It was an interesting piece, it sounded like something made from an electric sitar, a trumpet, and a jaw harp, all with two wizards low voices harmonizing under them. It was fairly upbeat, and very catchy. After a few verses, Dudley found himself singing along with Harry and the two wizards, much to the amusement of Sarah. The song ended, much to Dudley dissatisfaction, but the station launched into another interesting, yet very fun song. The station they were on played fairly good music, and they stayed on it for four or five songs, both of them singing along. It was much fun.

The final song that they listened to started with a slow electric monotone. A voice entered, and asked, "Are you scared to walk through the hallways? Are you worried that the spiders run away?"

"Wait a minute…" thought Harry aloud. "I hope this isn't…"

"Are you petrified…of being petrified?" continued the voice. Harry groaned and grabbed for the dial. The last thing Dudley heard from it was a sudden tempo change with drums and guitar, as the speaker asked, "Are we going to have to save the school again? We've got to…"

The dial spun and the channel changed to some Quidditch broadcasting. "Ah yes," reflected Harry contentedly. "I've been wondering how Ireland is doing." Dudley wisely decided not to comment that the match was between Greece and Romania.

"Uncle Harry…" question Sarah carefully. "That song…sounds like what you did…in your second year at Hogwarts…with the spiders, and petrifaction. Is it about you?" she asked curiously, putting her head on the seat above Harry's left shoulder.

Harry fidgeted nervously. "Well…er…yes…actually. It's this dumb American band. They write all of their songs about me and stuff I've done." Harry seemed thoroughly embarrassed. Sarah giggled, and Dudley let out a guffaw.

"What are they called?" asked Sarah innocently, with her sweetest smile on her face.

"Harry and the Potters," Harry admitted with a groan. Dudley let out a booming laugh. He couldn't resist.

"Sounds like you're pretty popular!" Dudley laughed. "Let's go back and listen…" His pocket buzzed, and he looked down. His cell phone was vibrating. "Hold on a second," he asked, putting up a finger. "Can you turn that down…" He motioned to the radio, but without more than a movement from either, the volume slider swung down to nearly silent.

Working at an insurance company, Dudley had heard too many stories of drivers crashing as they talked on their cell phones, and he now had a personal habit of pulling over to the side of the road whenever he needed to take or make a call. Fortunately, they were relatively alone on the road, so Dudley could pull over quickly and answer the call before it went to the message machine. Harry and Sarah sat patiently, Harry twiddling his thumbs.

"Hello?" asked Dudley cheerfully. He was still laughing inside that Harry had an entire band dedicated to himself. His insides were beginning to ache a little with suppressed mirth.

"D…Dudley?" asked Kate, her voice wavering out of the phone. Dudley sat up suddenly. Something was wrong. Kate's voice sounded scared, and in pain, as if she was about to sob.

"What's wrong, Kate?" he asked. "Is everything okay?" His old doubts about Agnes' character were beginning to resurface. "You sound like you're crying!"

"No…n…nothing is wrong." She was barely keeping her voice under control. "I…I need you to pick me up. D…do you know…where I am?"

"Yes," confirmed Dudley impatiently, "but if nothing is wrong, why are you crying? Has Agnes done something bad to you?" He accused the phone, as if it was the problem. Harry and Sarah were both looking curiously at Dudley, with a little bit of worry in their faces, but Dudley didn't care. He was gripping the cell phone so tightly that an ordinary bystander might fear for its well-being.

"No…nothing is wrong…Agnes…is fine…I…" she took a shuddering breath. Dudley had never heard her like this. "I just need you to pick…" Her voice cracked, leaping to a shrill pitch as she sobbed out, "…me…up!" The line went dead, leaving Dudley listening to a cold and lifeless dial tone.

Dudley pressed the little red button on his phone as the mechanical woman's voice asked him if he would like to make a call. He slowly lowered his hands to his lap. Both Harry and Sarah had looks of morbid curiosity on their faces, but neither of them said anything waiting for his move.

"I think…" Dudley inhaled. "I think I'm going to have to go pick up Kate," he finished, rather inadequately. "She doesn't sound like she's doing too well. I bet Agnes and all of her friends were horrible to her."

Dudley swore and Sarah's eyes went wide. "Sorry," he apologized, "But it's so frustrating. I was right all along, and now she's crying."

"I could pick her up," offered Harry. "Just tell me where to go and I could apparate there and then take her to the Burrow. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Dudley sat for another moment in cold thought. "No…" he ventured. "She asked me to pick her up, and Agnes' house is only a couple minutes back. We'll only be maybe…a half an hour late."

He sat there for another minute. Struck by an epiphany, Sarah exclaimed, "Harry can apparate ahead and tell them that we're going to be late." She smiled at her idea, but Dudley just sat there for another little while.

"I don't know if it's a good idea for the two of you to go alone," admitted Harry protectively. "I can't help but worry."

"But still," responded Dudley, "We wouldn't want any of the Weasley to worry if we showed up late. Sarah is right, you should go ahead."

Harry shrugged. "Okay, but all of my training as an Auror tells me that it's a bad idea to send you alone. If you're not at the Burrow by the time dinner begins, I'm going back for you."

Dudley gave a dark chuckle in contrast to his careless laughs from earlier. "Honestly, Harry, she's one woman, what can she do?" But even as he said it, he could help but hear Kate quivering, emotion torn voice in his ear.

Harry shook his head slowly and murmured, "That's what they said about Bellatrix…" as he stepped out of the car. Still, he made no protest as he spun on the spot and vanished with an explosion of sound.

Dudley had left the engine running, which was rather a waste of fuel, but it did save him a little time when he turned around. "Don't worry, Sarah," he mumbled, more to himself than to her. "This won't take long." He swung the car around the other way, and began the drive to Agnes' house.

It was dull, dreary and cold outside, but Dudley only noticed when it matched his mood. Before, when he was singing with Harry, he couldn't care less, but now as he was thinking about whatever emotional trauma Agnes had inflicted on Kate, he couldn't help but notice the brown, nearly dead trees, devoid of both color and life. Even the forest floor was covered in decaying leaves instead of new grass. Still soon enough, he was in upper-class suburbia, the lawns watered frequently enough to have buds of grass sprouting, and some early flowers. At very least, the outrageously painted houses were colorful.

As they went on, Dudley soon began to notice that his car must have been the cheapest and least beat up car for miles, but it did not make him feel ashamed. Instead, his newfound animosity for the people in this general area made him feel a little self-righteous.

Finally, he pulled up at Agnes house, but Kate was nowhere to be seen, and there were no cars in the driveway. To his surprise, the house was not like the other vast mansions in the area. It was indeed large, but instead the pristine wealth and beauty that was very obviously displayed by the other houses, this one seemed old, battered, dingy. He could even see cracks in the sidewalk leading up to the front gate. It didn't look like anyone had been there for a while. Dudley checked the address doubtfully, but found that he was indeed at the right house.

He opened the car door, and began to slowly edge towards the house. Sarah followed him timidly, almost hiding behind his legs. Now that he thought of it, this was even stranger than it initially seemed. Kate had driven the Catermobile to the party, but now it was no where in site. It was possible that the vehicle was in the garage, but if it was, then why would Kate need him to pick her up? Everything about this made him feel uneasy, and he began to desperately wish that he had told Harry to remain.

Still, he beat his fear and within a few seconds was standing on the doorstep. There was no bell in front of the massive wood door, only a rusty golden knocker. It was too defaced to tell, but Dudley thought he could trace the outline of a serpent's coils around the heavy circle he lifted to knock the door. It was large enough that he didn't need to give it a push, he simply let gravity do the work.

The knock rang like a gunshot through the early evening. It seemed almost profane in this perfect silence. Dudley gulped as he noticed that the door was slightly open. "I'm scared, Daddy," stated Sarah. She was clutching his leg tightly. Dudley looked down at her for a few seconds before deciding what to do.

"Let's just take a quick peek inside, and if we can't hear Mum, then we'll go back to the car and call her on her cell phone." He winced as he recalled that the call had not come from Kate's cell phone. It had come from an unknown caller. Still, he pushed the door open and stepped inside onto a thick, dusty purple rug. Inside, there were no lights at all, and Dudley could see nothing but the floor he was on, and an end table next to a staircase containing a telephone. It took a while for him to realize his throat was completely dry. He stood there with Sarah for ten seconds or so before he had the courage to wet his lips and let his hoarse voice croak, "Kate?" He could hear his voice echoing throughout the house, unanswered. He tried again, to no more avail.

"Daddy," whined Sarah, slowly backing towards the door. "I think we should go, I don't feel very good, something is wrong…"

"Okay, Sarah, I agree, let's get back…" He turned around, and took a step towards the door, when he heard a movement behind him, and felt something made of rough wood press to the back of his neck. "Kate?" he asked, half turning hopefully, but it was not her face he saw in the corner of his vision, nor was it her voice in which he heard the high pitched whisper,

_"Crucio!"_


	25. Chapter 25

Pain. Indescribable Pain. Pain beyond anything Dudley had ever known. Every nerve in his body exploded in extreme torture. He was being incinerated with no heat, frozen at room temperature, and slashed into impossibly small pieces, all while remaining whole. Dudley had no idea what he was doing, what he was screaming, what his flailing limbs were hitting. All that existed was the pain. The curse lasted no longer than a few seconds, but it was an eternity for Dudley. After a few mere moments, Dudley felt completely disconnected from his body, as if he was slipping away from it, going completely insane. He knew that the curse could not kill him, but even lunacy was a good option before this impossible pain. It was Sarah who saved him, or rather, the thought of her. Before he could slip off entirely, he felt the slight desire that Sarah wouldn't suffer the same torture as him.

Of course, as he realized that Sarah still existed in the physical world, and that he was more than a tormented spirit, and that he still had to rescue his daughter, insanity was no longer a choice. Gritting his teeth, he screamed through the slowly receding pain.

After the agony, he survived. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes, but he was alive, and sane, and that was enough for him. An added bonus was that he could hear. At the moment, he heard two voices. The first sounded slightly familiar. Perhaps it was Agnes, but it sounded a little different, like the owner of the voice was halfway between being Agnes and being someone else. The second was entirely unknown. It was harsh, low and cruel, though definitely a woman's.

The first, Agnes-like voice whispered, "Cruc-" but she stopped. Mustering all of his strength, Dudley forced open his eyelids to see the outline of two women, one of whom was holding the other one's wand.

"No," she said. "We don't want to attract attention." Dudley recognized her as the second voice, though his eyesight was still too blurry to pick out any definite shapes. "If you want you can stupefy her, but don't let her scream,"

The one that sounded like Agnes moaned, though she lowered her wand. "But…you got to play with him!" She made a gesture at Dudley.

"Girl's voices are higher and travel further," informed the second witch cruelly, and, at the same time, mercifully. Dudley heard Sarah whimpering near the door, which was now shut, and glowing with faint red energy. Even if he could get up, and somehow get past these two horrible women, Dudley knew that he would never be able to pass that door.

"Daddy…" she sobbed, "Help me…please…get up Daddy!" Dudley tried with all of his might to tell her,

"It's going to be okay," or "Harry is coming to save us," or "Don't worry, we'll be fine," but all he could push past his tortured lips was a mere moan, though he tried to contain as much hope in that moan as he could. It didn't seem to work very well.

"Fine," sighed the woman that sounded like Agnes. "_Stupefy,"_ She knocked out Dudley's beloved daughter with a tone of such causality and indifference that he nearly ignored all the warnings from his body, he nearly jumped to his feet to strangle her, but as he tried to push himself up, the second woman laughed.

"Look at this one," she snickered evilly. "He's not even worth wasting a curse on. With a simple motion, she swung one foot back, and brought it forward quickly. Something exploded into Dudley's line of vision, knocking him back to the ground. Dudley didn't feel it until a moment later, when a small, boot shaped area on his head began to throb.

Dudley's mind obviously wasn't working very well at that time, under extreme stress, as he would later reflect, because as the lights began to dim around him, and the world grew faint, all he could think was.

"I appear to be losing conscious…That's interesting." He slumped to the ground.

***  
When he awoke, for a few moments, he had the feeling he was falling, and although he soon came to his senses, he still could not figure out exactly what was happening. His illusion of falling was justified, at least.

He was floating in the air, and the wall in front of him was slowly shifting upwards. He tried to move, but something was keeping him tightly bound in place. Additionally, he seemed to be moving backwards as well as downwards. It was a confusing few moments before he took a closer look and realized what was actually happening.

He was bound in some kind of magical stretcher, hovering down a very long set of stairs, with his face looking upwards. The wall in front of him was actually the ceiling, several feet above, and as he moved horizontally, it appeared as if the ceiling was moving instead. He was not traveling backwards either, but downwards, as he descended the stairs. Straining the limits of his eyes and peripheral vision, which seemed to be the only part of the body he could move, he tried to further assess his surroundings.

The two women were walking behind him, though now neither of them looked like Agnes, and they were both wearing rough black robes. They both held wands. Dudley idly wondered if they had the real Agnes tied up somewhere and one of them was using her with Polyjuice Potion to change form. One of the witches had Sarah slung over her shoulder. There was no visible end to the passage behind them, though they were now only perhaps a hundred feet from a large wooden door at the bottom of the stairs.

Dudley might have lapsed into unconsciousness again, but he wasn't thinking very clearly in either case, so he couldn't tell how long it should have taken for them to reach the door. The door opened without a touch from any of them, and their eerie procession drifted into the chamber. With a flick of her wand one of the witches released Dudley from his bonds, and he crashed painfully to the ground, unable to catch himself in time. The breath was driven from his lungs. He coughed, just once, but there was a dry, unpleasant feeling in his lungs.

The condition was aggravated when he felt a boot drive itself into his ribs. He yelped and rolled to his side. To his surprise, he was more able than he previously thought he would be, and it seemed like all traces of the former pain he had suffered had nearly vanished. His vision, formerly blurry, was clearing, and he pushed himself up to his feet, and took stock of his surroundings.

The two witches were standing in front of him, both in filthy threadbare robes. The first was the one who formerly looked like Agnes, if Dudley's rapidly formulated theory was correct. His conclusion was reinforced by the fact that the first witch, despite her rough, uncouth black hair, had quickly vanishing patches of silvery blond, the same color as Agnes' hair. Polyjuice potion seemed the only conclusion. The woman who had been disguised as Agnes stood further forward, her wand pointed aggressively at Dudley. She had a strong jawbone with a broad nose that made her even more threatening. There was also a bit more than a touch of pure, reckless insanity in her eyes. Her skin was morbidly pale, and her body was unhealthily thin. Dudley was very careful not to make any sudden moves, as she did not look like the kind of woman who would hesitate to blow him to pieces.

The second witch stood a good distance back, though there was a shifty look in her deep, black eyes. She had a single hand resting tentatively on her side, where her wand lay, still unused. Her hair was pale, almost silver, but she was young, certainly younger than the other woman, and possibly as old as Dudley and Kate. Her face was smooth, well-mannered, and fairly pretty, but it was with the beauty of a flower housing a snake underneath.

"Get to the pole!" hissed the witch who had been disguised as Agnes. The one of them had apparently already set Sarah with her back to a stone pillar in the other corner of the room while Dudley wasn't paying attention. She sat there, clutching her legs to her chest, barely keeping herself from whimpering. There was another shape tied to the pole, but before Dudley could recognize it, the witch interrupted him. "Spiclotum!" she whispered threateningly, jabbing her wand at him. A thin jet of red light erupted from her wand and honed in on Dudley's leg. He tried to dodge, but it was like trying to catch a bullet in his teeth.

Surprisingly though, it wasn't as extremely painful as he had expected. It was as if he had accidentally touched his leg to a radiator, except he couldn't move away. The pain was severe enough to inspire him to move, but not enough to disable him. He limp-hopped over to the pole, trying carefully not to put too much weight on his burning leg. The witch with her wand out waved it contemptuously, and Dudley's pain was suddenly assuaged, but not eradicated. It was now only an unpleasant sting, like a large rope burn. Dudley looked at the pole that Sarah was sitting against, and was unpleasantly surprised.

Sarah was not the only one on the pole. Kate sat with her back to him, arms and torso chained tightly to the pole. Her skin was both grey and yet xanthous, perfectly smooth, as a dark contrast verses her normally bright complexion, and her normally combed, straight hair lay in a tangled mat around the pole, completely motionless. Her eyes were not completely closed, but her eyelids hung in a restless, unstable state just millimeters away from closing. For a few dreadful moments, Dudley thought she was dead, until he noticed tiny wisps of breath tickling her dark lips. She was unconscious or asleep, though probably the former, based on the fact that she hadn't woken, despite the loud noises Dudley made as he had hobbled over.

"The Aurors will be here soon," said the second witch, in a low, but remarkably calm and collected voice, as if it was only part of her plan. "You can deal with them. I'll watch the door. Whatever you do, DON'T come up. It would be wise to watch out for anyone with Evans' blood, despite how diluted and filthy it might be." She turned on her heel, and strode out, while reminding the other one, without turning around, "But we need them alive to be any leverage on Potter. And preferably sane, in case you were getting any ideas. Don't get carried away." The door opened without any motion or words from her, like one of the Muggles automatic sliding doors, and shut with a surprisingly loud clang behind her, especially considering it was made of wood. Dudley turned his attention to the second, probably less mentally stable witch.

She jerked her wand down, indicating for him to sit. Careful not to make any provoking gestures, Dudley lowered his aching body to the ground, feeling like he was dealing with a coiled snake, ready to strike. The concrete pole was wrapped around entirely with bulky brutal chains, as thick as Dudley's arms. He pushed his back up to them as she gestured. The metal was surprisingly cold, and bit into his skin. With an elaborate movement, the witch twisted her wand and a translucent jet of magic slithered forth into the chain. The large chains began to unwind around the pole, becoming longer and looser, though Dudley could not find neither a beginning nor an end to the chain. It was as if the chain was simply a large circle, infinitely bound up in itself. Before he knew it or could even think of avoiding it, coils of chain slid over his head and up from under his feet, wrapping him tighter and tighter in their grasp.

Remembering something he had once read in a book, Dudley sucked up as much air as he could, hoping to make himself bigger, so that once the chains were done moving and the witch wasn't paying attention, he could suck in his chest and squirm out. His plan was as hopeless as their situation, as the chains squeezed tighter and tighter around all of them, like an anaconda's deadly embrace.

And suddenly it ended. The chains continued to try to pull their way closer to the pole, constricting Dudley and the rest of the Dursleys, but there was no more movement. They had reached their limit, and despite his unfathomable discomfort, Dudley was glad that at least they could go no further. He felt like a spool of yarn, except that the yarn was cold, metallic, unforgiving, and tighter than anything that a spool of yarn endures.

"Hmm!" snorted the witch. "Stand up," she ordered. Dudley nearly scoffed. He could no more stand up than he could fly. "Well," she purred, "What are you waiting for?"

"I…I can't stand up with all of these chains," proffered Dudley, attempting to sound meek.

The witch sighed in mock frustration. "Do I have to do everything for you worthless Muggles and you foul breed? Must we wizards carry you on our generous backs any longer?" She looked at him, as if expecting an answer. Dudley simply stared back at her determinedly. That was one thing that Harry had imbued him with, a belief that blood did not determine character, or worth. Her face suddenly falling from its mask of false exasperation, it became completely serious. "Fine," she spat.

And with that she jerked her wand up maliciously. The chains rapidly skated up the coarse, harsh concrete pole, pulling Dudley and his family with them, and grinding their backs against the pillar like sandpaper. Dudley wanted to scream, but he kept himself in check, and let nothing more from his throat than a grunt as rough as the pole he was tied to. His lip quivered, twice, though he kept it at that. Wriggling his shoulders just a little, he winced, and discovered that nearly all of his shirt and a considerable amount of the skin on his back had been left at the bottom of the pole.

There were a few moments of silence, as the second witch stared into Dudley's slightly watery eyes. Her face was the picture of sadistic glee, but her eyes were cold, and entirely unsatisfied.

Then, like a fish wrenched out of water, Sarah let out a few shocked, desperate coughs and gasps, attempting to keep her lungs calm and prepared for the inevitable torrent of tears that came. It was then that for the first time in years that Dudley experienced true, unbridled hatred of the person who had done this to his daughter. He felt almost as if he could burst out of the chains as he was, and snap the witch's wand in two, and then see how she liked to deal with him.

He began to struggle against his bonds, but the more he tried the tighter they became. At first that didn't matter to him, for the numbing chains beginning to bite through his skin caused him no pain compared to the pain he intended to inflict on the woman in front of him, but then he heard a hacking cough to his right. Sarah's crying was ceasing, despite the intense pain from her back. It was being replaced by desperate gasping and retching as the chains pressed forced the air out of her lungs.

Dudley quickly turned his head to his right. "Sarah?" he asked, the chains squeezing his lungs uncomfortably. "Are you okay? Try to breathe, Sarah, try to calm down, Sarah, listen to me! It's going to be okay!" Still, she would not calm down. It sounded as if she had the whooping cough and a bad stomach virus at the same time. Dudley quickly turned his head back to the witch, to beg, plead her to stop, to loosen the chains, to remind her that the other witch wanted them alive. Still before he could even look at the witch again, his head was forced back into its earlier position by an extremely forceful slap. Dudley was sure that even now there were four fingernail marks beginning to trickle blood down his face. A feeling of warm liquid on his cheek confirmed his suspicion.

Never having been one to take offence easily, Dudley slowly turned his head towards the witch; his eyes giving her a Medusan glare. Even she was taken aback by the ferocity of his stare for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. She scoffed.

"So," she laughed, "We have finally got you. We have finally acquired what we've been looking for ten years now." Her face was playful, almost admiring them, but it was only in mockery, which quickly ended. "I must say I'm disappointed. A cute little family of Muggles. Slime. Scum. Worse than the dirt under my feet. An existence without magic is less valuable than an existence without life. You might as well be statues, so that you could at least be attempting to beautify your surroundings. Still," she shoved her face within inches of Dudley's. He thought for a moment that he might be able to headbutt her, but quickly realized that even if he could, it would do him no good, except to enrage her, which he would not have feared had his wife and daughter not been there, at her mercy. "I don't think you'd make good statues. You're all rather…ugly, put bluntly." Dudley did his best not to look sarcastic. She was far uglier than any of them, but Dudley held his tongue.

Sarah was still coughing, though her coughs were receding, and no longer sounded like she was trying to expel her lungs from her mouth. Shaking sobs were beginning to issue forth. The witch sighed. "Does she ever shut up? Silencio!" No longer able to cough or cry, all Sarah could do was to make half-sobs, strangled by magic on their way through her throat. The witch continued her mad rant. "You muggles are all the same! You breed like cockroaches, and act like them too. How long must you depend on us wizards to keep you safe? How long must we bear your burdens? How long, Muggle?" Dudley had absolutely no idea what the frenzied witch was talking about. Neither Muggles nor wizards depended on the other for anything at all. Almost caressingly, the witch took Dudley chin in her hands, stroking it with her long sharp nails, slightly painted with blood from Dudley's face. "How long?"

There were a few moments of silence as Dudley's mind whirred furiously with a solution that would end without torture. The witch's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she began to dig her fingernails into his skin. "I…I…don't…know!" stuttered Dudley, careful not to enrage her. The witch sighed and let go of his face, though not before digging her nails in just a little. She turned her back to him and strode away for a few moments. Dudley squirmed, attempting to become a little more comfortable, to move a little pressure of his near skinless back. He gave up after a few seconds, as he feared that any more pressure from the icy chains would crack a rib, if not on him, then certainly on Sarah or Kate, and that was one more complication he didn't need.

The witch turned around. "You don't know, do you? You don't even know what we protect you from, do you?" Dudley was loathe to respond, but the witch continued anyway. "We protect you from dragons. We protect you from vampires. We protect you from werewolves, giants, grindylows, demons, pixies, and all sorts of magical beasts you've never even heard of. We protect you from wizarding wars, from Deathly Hallow, wands, WE PROTECT YOU FROM MAGIC!" she roared, bringing her face close to Dudley's again. Spittle flew onto his face, but he could not wipe it away. She withdrew, rubbing her sleeve across her mouth. "No…no…" she murmured to herself. "No…you have no idea. And then…what do you do to thank us?" she laughed. You…you breed with us. You mix your filthy blood with our magical perfection. You dilute the nature of wizarding until it's barely even there. You…you and your kind…you destroy us…" She sounded calm, controlled, but she was shaking with rage. "I…I…should…remove this problem….I…I should KILL YOU! I SHOULD KILL YOU ALL!"

She was no longer facing them, her roars no longer directed at Dudley, but instead at the ceiling, at the world, and especially, at Muggles. "But that's what I'm doing," she laughed turning around. "If we want to destroy Muggles and their foul kind, first, first we must pull them out from our own race. We must extirpate this problem from its roots; we must kill all…Mudbloods…and Half-blood…even purebloods…anyone…anyone not worthy to wage war on Muggles and your filthy blood. And we must start…we must start with their champion." She was murmuring almost to herself now, as if justifying a plan that was already in action. "We must start with the champion of muggles, half-bloods, mudbloods, filthy magical creatures everywhere…Yes, yes…we will start with Harry Potter."

"NO!" roared Dudley, writhing in his chains, all pain and control gone as he desperately tried to escape his bonds and strangle the woman in front of him. "YOU CAN'T! YOU'LL NEVER KILL HIM!"

The witch pulled herself to her full height, and energy crackled from the end of her wand, the room darkening as she did it. "I AM BRISTA FANG!" she said, her voice magically enhanced to far below any normal range, especially for a female, and magnified to volumes that Dudley could do nothing but cower against the pole. "It is too late to stop us. We will root out the impurities of nonmagic from its root, and Harry Potter will be our first victim."

"You…you'll…never…get him…" quavered Dudley, but before Brista could respond, she snapped her head to the right, looking up in the direction of the stairs, as if she had sensed some kind of magical trigger, or alarm. With a sadistic grin on her face, she turned back to Dudley.

"Oh, I think we already have, my dear." And with a crack she was gone, leaving them alone. There was a moment of silence, when suddenly Dudley heard a horribly familiar voice radiating through the walls of the house.

"**WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND WANDS AWAY! LEAVE ALL HOSTAGES UNTOUCHED! THERE WILL BE REPERCUSSIONS OTHERWISE! THE AUROR SQUAD IS PREPARED TO ADVANCE!"**

"Harry," choked Dudley.


	26. Chapter 26

Dudley stood in that room for what seemed to him like a long time. Perhaps it had only been five minutes in real time, but for the mental and physical torture that he was experiencing, it seemed like an eternity. The chains had not at all relaxed their hold, and his breath had to be as shallow as possible, or else he would feel like his ribs were cracking. Also, he began to be overcome by a suspicion that the chains were infused with a magic beyond their grip. The cold was beginning to sink through his clothes and skin, and was touching his very heart. He was beginning to lose the will to fight, to escape, to do anything but hang his head in hopeless despair. After just a little while, he began to think of the chains as the enemies, the two witches who had done the actual imprisonment were no longer a concern, just the biting, piercing cold.

Still, there was no fight against their magic, as he could not physically move himself away, and the chains were too overpowering for him to think about anything else. Finally, his head began to droop, and his eyelids began to close. He was almost completely asleep, or worse, when suddenly he heard a gasp beside him. His raised his head in surprise, like a rabbit poking out of a hole. Sarah was breathing loudly and deeply beside him, the witch's silencing charm finally worn off.

"Sarah?" asked Dudley, saved for the second time that night by his daughter. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?"

"Y…Yes," affirmed Sarah, a bit wheezy, but still in control of her lungs. "Daddy…Daddy everything hurts so badly…my lungs, and my throat, and my back, oh…my back hurts so bad…" Her voice was beginning to acquire a frantic quality by the end, and Dudley was worried that she might once again start sobbing, and if she did that, she wouldn't be able to stop, and the coughing might start again, and this time, Dudley doubted they would be so lucky as for her to live.

"No, Sarah, no, don't cry, everything is going to be okay, you just have to be a strong girl for daddy, just don't cry, and don't cough, and we'll be okay," Dudley was feeling so frantic that he was surprised that he was not bursting into tears. He was glad, both to set a better example for his daughter and to spare his dignity, but surprised nonetheless. Still, despite his example, Sarah was losing control.

Her sobs were more frequent now, and there was a rasping, pressured quality in her breaths, as they were being stopped by the tight chains. "Please…Sarah, don't cry," begged Dudley, trying to turn his head as far as humanly possible and look straight at her.

But she did not calm down, and within moments she was crying and coughing again, though fortunately, she was still in control of her breaths. Dudley was begging her, and God above that she would stop, and finally, she heard something that mad her stop. Dudley couldn't hear it at first, but as soon as she stopped, he heard it again.

"Dudley?" a voice mumbled, so softly that Dudley could tell neither where it was coming from nor who was saying it. "Sarah?"

"Kate?" he murmured, hardly daring to believe it himself. "Are you…okay?" She gave a few short coughs and sighed, leaning her head sideways, towards Dudley shoulder, even though there was a pole corner in the way.

"Mommy?" asked Sarah, her voice still choked by tears, though her breathing was regulating itself once more. "Mommy, are you awake?"

"Kate?" reiterated Dudley carefully, anxious not to over stimulate her. "Are you awake?"

"Yes…" she whispered, so softly that Dudley was barely even certain it had been said. "I'm awake, but I wish I wasn't…all I want now…is to sleep…a nice long sleep…and I don't know…if I intend to wake up."

"No, Kate, no Kate," begged Dudley, feeling like he was losing control even faster now than he had been before. "Just stay awake talk to me, talk to Sarah, she needs you to tell her that we're all going to be okay, that everything is going to be fine. Tell her that, Kate, please!"

"Don't worry, Sarah," whispered Kate obediently. "Don't cry, just calm down, and fall asleep, like me…" And with this, her head drooped forward. "Just go to sleep…never-ending sleep. That's what the chains want me to do…that's what they're telling me…"

"No!" roared Dudley. Sarah had calmed down, and was in no immediate danger at the moment, but now Kate was giving up, giving in to the cold pressure of the chains. Dudley had to admit that even his violent protective emotions were feeling dulled by the heartless steel of the chains biting into him. "Don't go to sleep! Don't let the chains win. It's just magic! They're enchanted to make you think you have to go to sleep, but you can't you'll die! You have to fight!"

"Dudley…" murmured Kate, "I don't think we can fight the chains…they're so…so tight…so cold…there is no escape." Dudley could not see it, but he could imagine her eyes drooping shut, like curtains shutting out the final light in her mind, preparing her for the cold, endless sleep that the chains offered."

"Please," begged Dudley, desperate, "Please, Kate, stay with me. Please, Kate, stay with me, stay with me for Sarah, for Dustin! You have to stay! He…" Dudley's voice cracked. It was the first time he thought of what Dustin would do. He would be an orphan, like Harry. Of course, there would be other people to take care of him…the Weasleys, his parents, the Grangers, even Hogwarts would be glad to take him in as an adoptive son, but…Dudley would never get to see him again. "P…p…please, Kate…st…stay with me," but now even he didn't want for either of them to do that. As if sensing their victory, the chains drew about them tighter, froze to their skin colder, and black, crushing despair seemed to drip from them.

"Kate," whispered Dudley. He would have burst out crying had he tried to raise his voice any higher. "This…this is all my fault. I shouldn't have ignored the fear in your voice. I shouldn't have brought Sarah, I should have told Harry never to come. It's my fault."

"No," murmured Kate, still not having reached her final sleep. Dudley made a mental note that as long as he could talk to her, keep her distracted, she might not fall asleep, but now, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to prevent it. After all, no matter the circumstances, drifting off to sleep and death were some of the least painful and most peaceful ways to go. "It's not your fault. I was the one who trusted Agnes, despite her suspicious behavior. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have come, and especially not alone. This is my fault."

There was a moment of silence as Dudley thought about her assertion. Suddenly, a new feeling began to flame within him, expelling the black despair like a candle in a dark room, banishing the blackness wherever it shines. The feeling was self-righteousness, and in this circumstance, it was well deserved. "No," murmured Dudley. "No," he repeated, standing up straighter in the tight chains, his voice growing in volume and bouncing around the room. "That's not right. It's not your fault, and it's not my fault. Neither of us asked for this and neither of us deserved this. This is that Brista Fang woman's fault, and that other woman, whoever she is. They've tied us up, and put under spells that are making us blame ourselves for their crimes. We should feel no responsibility. No, all I feel is…is indignation! We will make them pay for their crimes!" Dudley was practically roaring by the end, and he was struggling against the chains, even though they only hugged to him tighter.

Dudley glanced to his side hopefully. Kate was no longer hanging her head down, and though she still looked sad, and tired, she was no longer totally hopeless. "C'mon, Kate. Let's get out of here," he whispered encouragingly. She did not look enthusiastic, but neither did she look crushed.

"See, Kate?" asked Dudley hopefully, puffing out his chest as much as he could. "Maybe if I push out, and you suck in you stomach as much as you can, then you can wiggle your way out." Dudley began leaning his weight against the chains, pushing with all his might.

"G…go!" he forced through his lungs and throat, though all he heard beside him was a halfhearted wiggle or two. Finally, Dudley could hold against the chains no longer and they slapped him back against the pole. "Okay…" he breathed heavily, "That's not going to work…Well, then maybe…um…if we…get…over the top…then…wait…" Dudley was desperately trying to come up with a plan, if only to keep Kate from falling into the powerful enchantment of the chains.

Dudley was racking his brains like never before. He felt like every word he had learned in his life was bombarding his brain, trying to figure out how he could escape. It was like a cascade of ideas, but nearly all of them required a helper on the outside. "Look!" exclaimed Dudley. "They've left a wand, over by the door! If only there was a wizard or witch here. Maybe in a couple years, Sarah would know how to pull the wand over, but we're tied up anyway, and she can't catch it in her hand. Maybe…if we call…then a wizard outdoors will hear and apparate down!" Dudley was hopeful for a moment, but his plan quickly had its wings clipped by Kate.

"No…" she murmured. "They told me the basement is apparation, port-key, broomstick, or magical transportation of any kind proof. I don't think they'll get down here unless they walk in."

"Okay…okay…" Dudley bit his lip, trying to think of more ideas. "Well…maybe…if we…um…use…" but his incomplete thought was interrupted by a sudden cry beside him.

"H…Help! Daddy, I'm slippi…" but the cry was cut off for a moment, and Dudley heard a thud from beneath him. The magical chains quickly tightened and slapped to Dudley's side bruising his arm, but he didn't care.

"Sarah? Sarah?" He yelled, looking as far to his right the chains allowed. His eyes began to hurt like any other muscle he stretched too far, but he saw exactly what they needed.

"Oof," said Sarah, sitting on the ground, rubbing her rear. "I slipped out."

The chains were too tight, too thick for anyone to slide even a millimeter under normal circumstances.

Dudley let out a little laugh as a grin began to spread across his face. "Magic," he whispered.


	27. Chapter 27

Sarah stood up and looked around. "I slipped out!" she repeated. "Uh oh, the witches aren't going to like this! I'd better get back in!" She began to tug on the chains, trying to pull them far enough back to fit in.

"No, no, Sarah, it'll be okay!" assured Dudley. Even though he was sure that no human being on earth had enough strength to loosen these chains with physical strength alone, let alone a young girl, he still didn't want her too close, in case the magical chains could detect that their prey had escaped, and tried to recapture her, or sound some kind of an alarm. "Please, Sarah, please, just…just BACK OFF!" The anger exploded through his voice, though none of it was actually because of Sarah. It was just his anger with himself, with the witches, with this entire situation. He couldn't contain it any longer. Frightened, like a rabbit just noticing a wolf, Sarah backed off slowly.

Dudley relaxed. "I'm sorry, Sarah, I shouldn't have yelled. I…I wasn't mad at you, I was just…um…worried…that…that you might get your hand caught in the chains," fabricated Dudley.

"Oh," replied Sarah, still slightly surprised, but now understanding. "I'm sorry too. I should have asked you first."

"It's okay, Sarah, you haven't done anything wrong. As a matter of fact, I think you're the only one who hasn't done anything wrong today. Today our mistakes just caught up with us." Dudley sighed.

"Dudley?" murmured Kate. She sounded tired, beyond anything Dudley had ever heard. "What's going on? Is Sarah okay?" She was facing the opposite direction, her back turned to all of the action, and because of the tight chains and wide pillar they were tied to she couldn't turn her head to see what was going on.

"Everything's okay," Dudley intoned carefully. He didn't want to surprise her too much; he didn't know how she would react under the magical haze of the chains. "Sarah has…fallen out of the chains…probably by magic. It's the only thing I can imagine, as they are too tight for even the slightest of movement by either of us."

"What?" asked Kate, standing up straighter. This development evidently had awakened her; the news that there was hope for one of them was enough. Dudley heard the tiredness fall away from her voice, the sorcerous sleep cast aside like a torn or dirty garment. She was suddenly alert and awake. "Repeat that, Dudley, I need to be sure I heard what I thought I did." Dudley willingly obliged.

"Thank God," murmured Kate. "What should we do now? I don't think that Sarah by herself can get us out."

"No…" mused Dudley, "But if worst comes to worst, maybe she can slip out by herself.

Dudley felt a slight rustle in the chains as Kate shook her head. "No, I don't think she'll be able to make it. Brista told me, before you arrived, exactly how long the Fang family has owned this manor, and whether they really have had it for centuries or not, I don't think that it's without its traps. It would almost be safer for her to stay here and wait for possible rescue than to go at it alone."

"Yeah…" agreed Dudley, feeling like he was leaving a lot of unfinished thoughts lately. He just needed time to calm down and think, so that's what he did. He hung his head and furrowed his brow. He would massage his forehead if his hands weren't tied up. He remained like that for a few moments, Sarah looking at him expectantly. Still, she was young, and not particularly patient.

"Daddy?" she asked, "Daddy, what should I do? How can I help?" She crossed her arms behind her back expectantly, and began to pace around the room.

"Just…just give me a minute more to think," replied Dudley, opening his eyes up to see her, but she had moved back a little. As he peered up to see her, the solution stared back. "The wand!" he exclaimed. It was a small thing, knobby, gnarled and worn so smooth that it was almost like stone, and yet it was their salvation. It was resting on a small empty wooden crate flipped upside down by the door, almost as if it was waiting for them. "Sarah! Get the wand!"

"There's a wand? Where? Why?" demanded Kate, turning as far as she could in the constricting chains, trying desperately to see what was going on.

"I told you about it earlier, but I guess the enchantment of the chains was too strong," explained Dudley. "It's over by the door, and I don't know why they left it here, I guess they just thought it wasn't important, and Muggles couldn't use it anyw…" but his explanation was cut off suddenly as Sarah turned her back to him to grab the wand, revealing for the first time the injuries she had sustained as the chains dragged her up the cruel concrete column.

Her soccer uniform had been pulled down across her back, almost out of harm's way by the force between her and the pole, and its damage was minimal, just a few rips and tears, and quite a few little chips of concrete stuck to it. Sarah had not been so fortunate. The harsh concrete had ripped a majority of skin off her back leaving it rough and raw. Some areas had deeper gashes, and were draining blood down her back. If her clothes were not synthetic and water-resistant, Dudley was sure he would notice the spreading bloody stain earlier. He was amazed that Sarah even had the strength to move, let alone do what Dudley was asking her.

Still, she drew no attention to it as she picked the wand up off the crate. "Yuck," she groaned, sticking out her tongue. "I don't like this wand. It feels weird in my hand. It doesn't fit, and I can't grip it right. Plus, it feels like it's covered in dirt and slime, but I can't see any.

"It's okay," said Kate loudly, so that they would hear, despite the fact that she had her back to them. She hadn't noticed Sarah's injuries, and had thusly not reacted. "We'll buy you a good wand if we can get out of here. You just need one spell to get us out. Just one spell."

Dudley couldn't hear anything going on around him. He was too concerned with deeply inhaling, then exhaling. It was all he could do to help him from screaming madly, wildly, from exhausting all of his strength trying to break out of the chains and make the witches who did this to his daughter pay. Even as he tried to be rational, to focus on the situation, not to think about the pain that he or his family was suffering, his adrenaline began to wear off, and Dudley began to feel the now cold blood dripping down his back, the chains pressing into his ribs and stomach, the concrete chips embedded in his scrapes and wounds. It was a hard feeling to ignore.

"Dudley?" asked Kate, confused by his silence, "Dudley? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he spat gruffly. "I just can't wait to get out of here and teach those witches a lesson."

"Well, right now we need your help. Weren't you listening? We're trying to remember what spell would get us out of these chains." Dudley shook his head quickly to distract himself, and was secretly glad to have something else to focus on.

"Try…um…try…_Decanto_," suggested Dudley. "Harry told us about that one right?"

"Yes, that's right," confirmed Kate, her eyes closed, searching her memory for any spell that would be appropriate. "Harry used that one to disenchant those awful reversed sparkplugs that…one of the wizards he caught was distributing."

"Try that one out, Sarah," encouraged Dudley. "You can do it! Just give it a try!"

Sarah stood a moment in silence, glancing down at the wand. Dudley tried to lean forward, as she seemed to be muttering something to herself that he wanted to hear, but she stopped before he could figure out what she was saying. "Sarah," asked Dudley expectantly. "What are you waiting for?"

"Umm…" Sarah looked back confused. "Er…how…er…how do I, um…do magic?"

Dudley glanced sideways to Kate, his teeth gritted slightly, trying to figure out what he could say. "Kate?" he asked. "Any ideas?"

Kate thought for a moment. "Well…" she began, "I'm not exactly an expert on magic…or even an amateur, but I guess you just have to say the spell and wave your wand around a little. Maybe you have to think the word really hard in your head, and concentrate. That might help," Kate suggested hopefully.

"Okay…" said Sarah doubtfully. "I'll give it a try." Sarah brought the wand up to about a foot in front of her face, right between her eyes, and with a swishing motion, swung it down to her side, her arm angled slightly back and away from her body. She inhaled deeply, and suddenly there was a cool, fierce breeze washing around the room like waves of water, ruffling Sarah's dress to behind her, blowing loose or discarded papers into disarray in every direction. Dudley glanced around to confirm what he thought was true; there were no open doors or any windows at all anywhere in the room.

Even as he began to marvel at the power that his daughter was exhibiting, he began to feel it in the very air. It was something like static electricity, and if Dudley listened carefully, he could even hear it crackling like popcorn over the growing howl of the wind.

And still, Sarah stood there in concentration, her eyes closed in perfect meditation over what she was about to do. For a moment, Dudley felt fear grip his heart, and he had a very strong desire not to be in the way of Sarah when she cast a spell. But by then it was too late, for with a twirl for momentum and a dramatic flourish Sarah spun and yelled, "_DISCANTO!"_ Dudley closed his eyes for a moment, afraid to see the dragon of flame or jet of ice erupting from the tip of the wand, certainly coming straight at him. Yet, he felt nothing. The breeze quieted and suddenly stilled, like boiling water taken off a stove. No more could Dudley feel the crackling static, and the chains around his middle were as whole and immovable as ever.

Reluctantly opening his eyes just enough to peer through, Dudley saw Sarah in a lunging position, like a desperate fencer, gesticulating wildly with the wand, as if she were trying to conduct a very fast and loud piece of music. Yet nothing was happening.

"It didn't work," sighed Sarah, standing back up out of her lunge, letting the wand drop to her side. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," assured Kate. "Just try again, except maybe with a little less waving of the wand, and…and I think Harry said more of a 'Diss-canto' instead of 'Discann-to', okay?"

Sarah smiled. "Okay, mommy, I'll try again." She fell back into her previous pose of concentration, but this time there was no inexplicable breeze, no jolt of magic from her. "_DISS-CANTO_!" exclaimed Sarah, though this time with a far more controlled wand movement, and no lunge. Dudley waited hopefully for a second, but the result was the same.

"I don't think this is going to work," stated Kate bluntly. "Magic is more complicated than either of us know, and Sarah is only a little girl. I don't think she'll be able to properly cast a spell without intense, personal, formal study with a powerful wizard."

"We can't give up!" replied Dudley vehemently, rolling his eyes. "It doesn't do us any good. The very least we can do is try to think of something else, besides the chains, or, or our injuries. If we let the chains take our minds, then even if Harry can save us, it won't do any good." As Dudley said this, he realized that ever since Sarah had escaped and he had distracted himself with something other than guilt and self-consciousness, the chains icy grip had been unable to reach him. "Let's just keep trying," he resolved.

"I wasn't suggesting we give up," commented Kate, "Only that we are going to need to use a spell that we have personally seen Harry or someone else do, so that we can describe the movement to Sarah. I don't think the incantation alone will do it."

"Okay, okay," agreed Dudley, "Well…I remember…one time…Ron…he…he showed me this spell…where you had to…to…um…draw…some kind of animal…" Dudley haltingly stumbled through his memory, trying to remember exactly what animal Ron had been drawing. He said that it amused him, because he saw muggles having shapes just like it on the back of their cars… "A fish!" he exclaimed. "You had to draw a fish! But…but what was the incantation, and what did the spell do?" mused Dudley.

Kate sighed and looked over to him. "Dudley, the incantation was Scourgify, and that was a spell used to clean up spills. I don't think that is going to do us any good."

"Well, do you have any ideas?" Dudley asked, growing frustrated.

"Don't pressure me, I'm thinking!" Kate responded. She furrowed her brow and put her head down, deep in thought. Dudley knew that he didn't have a great visual memory, so he would never be able to remember any movement that one of his wizard friends made. He decided that perhaps by studying the surroundings, he might find something else useful. It was as he was looking around that he noticed that, once again, Sarah was muttering to herself.

"Sarah," he asked, "What are you saying? I can't hear you."

Sarah looked up, seemingly surprised. "Oh, um…I was just trying to help you, by…by remembering this rhyme that Albus taught me one time we were playing in the basement. He said that he made it up, from all of the spells he heard his dad say, but he said that they were too hard for him to cast." She closed her eyes and put both hands on her face, trying to remember. "Make…baddies fly…use…use…Stupefy…" Dudley sighed. These children's poems weren't likely to be useful either, especially with such simple rhymes. There was no time for elaborate instruction on wand movement, or thought patterns, or intonation, but it was helping Sarah feel useful, and keeping her occupied, so it wasn't doing any harm.

"Any progress, Kate?" Dudley asked his wife. She shook her head but said nothing, ostensibly too deep in thought to fathom a response.

Then, out of the corner of his ear, Dudley heard a new couplet in Albus' rhyme. "If you want…want…Destruct-o…Upward flick…" Sarah broke off for a moment, looking to the ceiling, hoping it would spur her memory.

Dudley's mind finished the poem before it realized the dangerous implications. It took him another second or two to do that, but by that time, it was too late, "Wait, Sarah, I don't think we should use that…" But as he spoke, a wild grin broke out on Sarah's face as she was hit by an epiphany. She flicked up her wand and enunciated,

"Upward flick, use '_REDUCTO!'_" A jet of warped air, like the shimmering mirages of heat dissipating from asphalt during the summer, erupted from the tip of her wand, and in an instant almost too brief to see, rocketed straight at Dudley and the pole. He didn't even have time to react, though he later imagined that if someone had been videotaping the incident, that perhaps his mouth would be opening to a dumb scream of horror.

For a quarter of a second after the jet of wavy, visible air whooshed out of Dudley's view, there was nothing but silence, as he desperately tried to see where it had hit. Then there was an explosion. The sound of the shattering steel and concrete was so loud, harsh, and grating in his ears that Dudley was for a second willing to believe that he had been killed by Sarah's spell, and now hell itself was tearing the ground below his feet open to swallow them all. But then it was over, and the room was silent, but for the settling of concrete chunks on the ground.

At first, all Dudley could see was pure white, reminding Dudley of Harry's encounter with death during his seventh year, reinforcing his belief that he had, after all, been accidentally slain by his daughter. But then, slowly, like snow, blown off of an incline by a fierce wind, the dust began to show other colors, mostly the grey of room they were in.

"Oh no!" exclaimed Sarah, somewhere on the other side of the great whiteness surrounding him. "I killed them! Daddy! Mommy!"

"I'm here, Sarah! I'm okay! Kate?" asked Dudley.

"I'm fine," coughed Kate. "But that was certainly a powerful spell. I didn't know you could cast that!" The white surrounding Dudley was beginning to diminish, and now Dudley realized that it wasn't pure white, it was closer to a yellowish, off-white, exactly like the color of the concrete pillar he and Kate were tied to. Suddenly, all was clear. Sarah had missed both of them, and hit part of the pole, obliterating the concrete and steel and sending dust and fragments of steel flying everywhere. The white dust had totally engulfed everything around the pole, making it appear to Sarah as if they had disappeared, and to them as if they had died.

Dudley sighed happily, glad to understand exactly what had occurred, but during the attempt, he inhaled a lung full of pulverized concrete dust, and began hacking it back up. As he tried to regain control of his lungs, the chains began to pull against him, as he expected, making his task even harder. Still, with much control, Dudley ignored all impulses, and began to calmly inhale and exhale once more, but not before he noticed something vital. "Kate!" he breathed, staring down to his right, "Struggle!"

"What?" she asked.

"Sarah destroyed a link in the chain! There's nothing holding it all together, except for the magic that the witches set up!" And sure enough, like a soft spot on a dragon's belly, there was one single link gone from the chain, the two next to it warped and melted by the impact of Sarah's spell. Both ends of the chain were pulling on Dudley and Kate, trying to close the gap between their liquefied ends, reseal and complete the chain, but Dudley would not let them.

Dudley immediately began to push against the chain, struggling wildly, as if wrestling with a ferocious beast. Now, though, as the chain was not a complete circle, when he pushed on it, the two ends of the chains were dragged further apart. Still, the magic in the chains would not relinquish them so easily, and it began to once again tighten, constricting Dudley's breathing.

Fortunately, Dudley was not alone. Kate had now realized that they were effectively free, as long as they had the strength to make it, and she began to help Dudley's crusade. They pushed and tugged, ripping chains away from their bodies as they struggled to get free. Interestingly, no matter how much Dudley struggled, they never acquired much slack. It was as if the chain was shrinking in order to prevent them from getting enough room to slip out. Nevertheless, they were making progress. The shrinking chain meant that their feet were coming out from under the thick bonds, and that they were less mummified in the metal cocoon. Sarah cheered wildly for her parents, but Dudley shook his head when she tried to approach and help. Like a dying beast, these chains were something to stay away from when foiled.

After a few minutes, Dudley and Kate were still secured to the pole, but the chain, which had been shrinking to prevent them from gaining enough slack to escape, was now so short that it only wrapped around them ten or fifteen times, and that was enough for the big break. Kate managed to prop her arms up against the concrete pillar, and with a last haul, she freed her entire body by about an inch or so, which was enough for her to suck in one deep breath and drop beneath them all.

The still molten end of the chain lashed out at her as she fell, striking her left cheek, burning her like a brand, but she ignored it and rolled away on the floor. The temporary breathing room Kate's escape gave Dudley just enough leverage to force his right foot up against the pillar, and with a massive heave, he flipped himself over the chain. He landed badly on his left shoulder, but realizing that he needed to get away, he continued the movement in a roll. Pushing himself up, with Sarah pulling on his arm for help, he lifted himself off the floor. Feeling a violent stab of pain all the way up and down his arm, and an ominous building feeling of nausea, he realized his shoulder was at least cracked, if not entirely broken. Remembering what he had learned a long time ago, when training for boxing, he began a deep and slow pattern of inhaling and exhaling to deal with the pain.

"Look!" exclaimed Kate, pointing fearfully to the wriggling chain now wrapped around the bottom of the pillar. It was now coiling around itself, snaking inward, and shrinking, still shrinking, the two ends of the chain dragging across the concrete floor, with a dulled grating sound. Dudley positioned one foot in front of the other, ready for battle, to stomp on the chain if it lunged at him or his family, but it did nothing of the sort. All it did was keep slowly, slowly turning, every coil traveling in an opposite direction. Dudley could now clearly see that the entire thing was shortening and disappearing, but, like a powerful optical illusion, he could only see it when he focused on the entire chain. He could never see exactly what happened to each disappearing link.

Soon, the chain was only one short circle around the pole, the still burning hot ends dragging along the ground. Dudley was sure now that he could see where the vanishing links were going, but still, no matter what link he focused on, that connection seemed to stop moving, everything else shifting around it. The chain shortened from ten coils around the rope, to five, to only two or three times wrapped around. Finally, the hated chain was nothing but two open links, the ones originally next to the one the link Sarah destroyed. And then, in a movement Dudley couldn't quite see, and certainly didn't understand, those two forged into one ball of steel, which began to glow red and shrink on the floor, smaller and smaller until Dudley couldn't see it at all. Dudley shook his head at the strange and unfamiliar magic.

Then, as if waiting for a hidden cue, Dudley, Kate and Sarah slowly rotated, facing the door to the rest of the mansion, and the unknown beyond. Dudley looked to his family, took a deep breath and took a single step forward.


	28. Chapter 28

**So how many of you expected this story to resurface, after years of no updates. Anyway, in commemoration of the last movie coming out, and the series probably being removed from the popular mind for a good long time, I'm finishing my story. I don't blame you if you've totally forgotten the plot, and have to reread. I also don't blame you if you start to reread and are driven away by the absolutely awful writing quality, and total lack of plot in the beginning (freshman year, what what). I've got the rest almost complete. There are going to be 30 chapters and an epilogue, and I'll be posting one a week hopefully.**

**Enjoy!**

Dudley slowly approached the large wooden door that barred him from the rest of the undoubtedly vast mansion. It was heavy and old, almost like the door to a castle dungeon. Looking around, Dudley realized that the large smooth stone room they were in could very well have been a dungeon at some point, though it had been allocated now for storage. Kate was probably its first prisoner since the medieval witch-hunts and pure-blood retaliations.

Dudley's lip trembled slightly as an intense stab of pain jarred his shoulder, which he was now sure was broken. Fortunately, it felt like a single, clean stress fracture, and not a mess of smaller shards, but that thought did little to assuage his pain. The sharp pain in his arm whenever it shifted wasn't as much the source of his discomfort; what was really causing his uneasiness was the dull ache that was creeping into his stomach, and slowly beginning to press against his forehead, like a holding a weight with the help of a crane that was slowly letting go of its support. He knew that, ironically, it was the throbbing in his shoulder, which he didn't mind, that was giving him these distressing symptoms. It was confirmation that his shoulder was broken. He had broken bones before, though rarely, but they were always accompanied by nausea and a headache as his body went into shock.

"D…Dudley…" stuttered Kate. "You…your back…" Dudley winced. He knew that his back was torn to pieces, like the carcass a small animal, once a cat had gotten a hold of it. Dudley gritted his teeth, wishing he had something to grip between them.

"I'm okay, Kate, my injuries aren't too debilitating. I think that now we just need to get out alive. We can get treatment later." He turned, looking at Kate and Sarah standing behind him. Sarah was clutching Kate's leg like a child playing hide and seek, but this was no frivolous game. "In case you haven't noticed, you're injured too. When she dragged us up the pole, everyone received the same treatment."

"Well…" Kate glanced over her shoulder, trying to see her back. "I was mostly protected by my jacket." Dudley realized that she was wearing a thicker synthetic blue jacket with pattern reminiscent of oriental designs. She turned around, showing Dudley her opposite side, where the jacket was torn to shreds, with wooly cloth hanging off like streams of fog sinking off a mountain. Her back seemed mostly unharmed. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I'm sorry I couldn't share it with you, that I got spared while both of you got…injured."

Dudley laughed once, pain in his shoulder stabbing through any complex thoughts he tried to form. "Why should I be sorry that at least one member of our little party is completely unharmed? More than that, why should I be sorry that my wife _didn't _get hurt?"

Kate smiled at her irrationality, but matters soon turned grim once more. "I say we just get out of here while we can. No matter what is out there, we've got to at least try to help Harry. If I know Harry, and we all do, he's going to be perfectly willing to sacrifice himself for his friends, and based on what we've seen of our two foes, they will be more than happy do the deed."

"And I don't trust them to hold to their word," added Kate. "If they really do…" she struggled for an appropriate euphemism. "…get Harry, I don't think they'll have any qualms running back in and finishing us off for good measure. If that does happen, I'd rather they don't know where we are."

"Unfortunately," continued Dudley, appraising the surrounding room, "They've probably had quite a bit of free time with which to booby trap this house. We're going to have to be careful, and hope that maybe we can have a little luck." But Dudley knew that they were going to need more than a little luck. He would have to perform thaumaturgy.

"So…er…first obstacle. How are we getting past the door?" posed Dudley. "I don't see any locks on it, and I didn't see them use magic to get past, the first time…so it might just be completely ordinary."

"I doubt that," laughed Kate. "I don't think that anyone could hope to escape that easily. If this truly was a dungeon at some point, which is what it looks like, I don't think they would simply let you push the door open."

"Well, maybe they've taken off the security measures, for convenience, or something," offered Dudley, hopeful. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I didn't see them use their wands to unlock the door. Besides, there's not much we can do at this point but try to escape. It's not like we're going to survive down here, unless the Aurors get really lucky. We might as well try to get out and help."

Kate looked skeptical, but nodded. "I…I'll try the door," she stated. "I'm the only one here not injured, so I'll be most able to…dodge, or survive whatever traps it could theoretically have."

"Wait, no," exclaimed Dudley, but Kate was already walking towards the door, and Dudley's injuries, though not on his legs, made any kind of movement too painful to catch up to her, so he decided not to make the effort. Kate approached the door, moving more slowly the closer she came to it. Upon reaching it, she turned, glancing at Dudley. "Be careful," advised Dudley lamely, and she cocked an eyebrow in amusement. It was hardly like she had any control over what was about to happen to her. She braced herself, and extended one finger, every muscle tensed, prepared to dive out of the way of any magical explosion that might issue from the door. At this point, the Dursley's biggest enemy was their own imagination, egged on by the creepy room, with its dark stone floors and flickering magical lanterns. He imagined the huge, old, dark wooden door erupting into flames as her finger tapped it, or blowing her back into the opposite wall, smashing her to a million pieces. He imagined a sickly, fetid, yellowish-green death gas issuing from the dark, ancient iron doorknob, but he couldn't do anything.

Kate brought the finger closer and closer to the door. A nagging doubt, an annoyance flashed in Dudley's mind. This wasn't right, he thought. In every fantasy, every imagining of danger he ever had, he had been the one taking the steps to save himself, and whomever was with him. Unfortunately, his arm throbbed with unbearable pain with every movement, no matter how simple, almost completely eliminating any help he could give.

Kate paused, her finger hovering millimeters away from the wood of the door, as if waiting for some kind of static spark. She inhaled deeply, and tapped her finger on the door. She was not blasted into a billion pieces by some mysterious curse, nor did the room begin to fill with yellowish-green death gas. As a matter of fact, nothing happened at all, other than an almost imperceptible 'thunk' of her finger on the wood. Dudley held his breath, waiting for some kind of inevitable, horrible consequence, but was disappointed. Kate laughed nervously.

"That was a bit anticlimactic," she laughed. "Let's see if I can actually open it." She pushed her palms to the door, and pushed, with no response whatsoever. She set her feet against the floor, wedged her back against the door and pushed again. There weren't any hinges on their side of the door, so she was supposed to push in order to open it, but the door wouldn't budge. Kate reached forward and grabbed the huge handle, tried to push on that, but to no avail.

Dudley walked over. "I guess it's locked," he theorized obviously. "Here, give me a go. I have more weight to throw at it." Kate obliged, moving out of the way. Dudley took a thorough inspection of the door. He wanted to know the weakest points before trying anything. Of course, he was hardly a master at breaking down doors, but he felt like he had once read something about it in a survival manual. It wasn't likely that the same guidelines that applied to modern doors worked in on dungeon portals, but he still had to try.

The handle itself looked like fine, solid workmanship, intricate, but losing none of its fortitude for beauty. Looking closer, Dudley realized the baroque designs weaving around the handle were actually miniature serpents, each one swallowing the next one's tail. Dudley shivered, though it wasn't particularly cold in the room. He tried to examine the nature of the bolt that made the door locked, but the gap between door and frame was too thin for him to see anything but darkness. The door did look worn and old, but it was in the same way that a forest oak might look old, but still invincible. All Dudley could hope was that this was not the case. Lowering himself to the ground, careful to support his weight on his unbroken shoulder, Dudley ascertained that the gap beneath the door was equally thin, and once again, nothing but darkness leaked through.

Sighing, Dudley stood up, and with his hopes low, pressed his unbroken shoulder to the door. He gave it a shove, with as much effect as if he had been pushing against the stone wall right beside it. Dudley tried again, setting his feet further from the wall to get a more advantageous angle, with no effect. Dudley struggled his hardest, and was rewarded with nothing but silence.

"Kate," he grunted, "Help me out, I can't move this by myself." Kate shrugged, and joined, to no avail. Dudley knew it was just in his mind, but he convinced himself that perhaps it was squeaking forward miniscule segments of a millimeter, and he would eventually make more progress.

"Let me help!" exclaimed Sarah, darting into the space between Dudley and Kate and giving the door a shove. It slid open as easily as if it had hinges of ice. Dudley and Kate toppled forward, Kate sprawling up onto the staircase, Dudley barely managing to keep his footing, stumbling like a drunk. He was glad, his shoulder was beginning to limit his movement to the bare minimum, and a fall certainly wouldn't help now.

Dudley and Kate turned back in surprise at Sarah, framed perfectly in the open doorway. "Looks like someone's been eating her veggies!" laughed Kate, flexing her arm. It was an interesting moment of humor in such a dark and desperate situation. Sarah laughed too, but still had a look of complete bewilderment on her face.

Dudley smiled but shook his head. "I think it's more likely that the door will only open to wizards and witches, a defense that would work perfectly against any muggles the wizards of the Middle Ages decided to chain here. I guess they just didn't count on six-year-old girls!"

"That's our Sarah!" exclaimed Kate. She looked ready to pick her up and give her a hug, but at the last moment she remembered the ravaged condition of Sarah's back, and thankfully abstained. Sarah giggled.

"Come on, Daddy, we need to get up the stairs," she laughed. She began to skip up joyfully. It was a strange sight, almost like something out of a horror movie, a little girl in a dark, dank, stone stairwell, her bloody back still oozing, strands of ripped skin hanging uselessly like sheets on a drying line. She turned to them, seemingly oblivious of her condition. "Come on!" she exclaimed.

"Sarah," asked Dudley, his voice quavering, "Maybe we should…cover your back, like, with a bandage or something."

"Here," said Kate, "I've got pants on under this," indicating a long blue skirt covering her lower half. She unbuttoned it and stepped out, revealing comfortable white shorts underneath. She handed the skirt to Sarah, who accepted it.

"Thank you," she said, "I'll put this on if you want, but I don't think I need a band-aid." Kate smiled, but wrapped it around her nonetheless. Sarah winced slightly when Kate tightened it, but other than that, she was exceptionally brave. The material was fairly absorbent, and Dudley could already see patches of red beginning to discolor the skirt. Nonetheless, if Sarah's wounds weren't holding her back, there was no reason they should hold him back, especially when he had a much more debilitating injury on his shoulder.

"Well," Dudley sighed then gestured up the stairs. "Let's go." Sarah smiled, her constant cheer still unhampered, though Dudley was not entirely sure she understood the gravity of the situation. To her, it could very well be another one of her imaginative games that she liked to play.

Dudley and Kate started up the stairs, Dudley's shoulder throbbing every time he took a step, Kate attempting to support him, but largely failing. She couldn't touch his back or one of his shoulders, so whatever support she could give him had to be on his side, which was not a very good place to pull someone around by.

Sarah moved in exactly the opposite manner to Dudley and Kate's interesting limping circus. She actually skipped up the stairs, humming a song that Dudley couldn't recall from a "Kid's Rock!" disc that he had received for free in the mail. He hadn't really seen any value in the music for anyone, but Sarah listened to it a few times. Sarah's cheerful demeanor looked as out of place in this dark, dank, dungeon as an alligator at a petting zoo.

Still, she managed to keep it up for a long time, plopping down on a stair when Dudley and Kate got too far behind. For Dudley, every step was becoming torture now, his arm exploding in pain every time he took a pace. These large, easy to climb stairs were effectively his K2, nearly unclimbable, except with extreme determination and luck. Dudley just pushed the pain to the back of his mind and gritted his teeth.

The stairs were wide, deep and very high, as if they had been designed for people a good two or three feet taller than normal humans. They were long too, and curved subtly, so that there didn't look to be an end anywhere, just an infinity of stairs. Fortunately, adrenaline soon began pumping through Dudley's system once more, and the pain in his arm dulled, and just in time for him to be forced to move more dramatically.

Sarah had sat down for a little while, waiting for Dudley and Kate to catch up. Once they were only a step or two behind her, she sat up smiling and turned, skipping up a step or two, when she suddenly stopped. "Uh oh," she cautioned Dudley and Kate turning back and shaking her head. "Don't step on this stair, it's sticky and yucky." She stuck out her lip very matter-of-factly. "You've got to jump over...Like this!" With an impressive leap for someone of her age, she cleared the stair, landing on the other side. "See?"

"What are you talking about Sarah?" questioned Dudley, zombie shuffling to the other end of the stair and slowly lifting one leg to the top. He winced. "It doesn't look sticky to me."

"Yes it does!" claimed Sarah emphatically, though, of course, she could hardly claim what Dudley did or did not see. "I'll show you!" She stooped down and picked up a mortar flake of the stairs, then tossed it onto the stair below her. As soon as it hit, the flake froze in place, not bouncing or rolling, as if it had been thrown into a pit of molten tar.

"D...Dudley..." gasped Kate. "She just...She saw a magical trap. If we had stepped on that...we'd be frozen down here."

Dudley's face brightened with understanding. "Oh...Oh!" He beamed at his daughter. "Thank you, Sarah! We would have gotten stuck without you. Can you remember to tell us if there are any other sticky ones, or...or yucky ones, or anything else we don't want to step in?" Sarah nodded happily.

"Okay, Daddy, but maybe you need to get glasses. I think the yucky stuff on the stair is pretty clear." She turned and skipped up a few more steps.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Kate turned her head close to Dudley's and whispered, "Are you going to be able to clear two stairs at once?" Dudley stared at the distance, but after a few seconds, nodded.

"I can get that. My arm is feeling a little better. Besides, my arm has no effect on my actual stair climbing ability, I just have to go slow because it hurts. Right now I just have to put mind over...over very frightening and agonizing matter." And with that, he set one foot up two stairs and heaved his exhausted and heavily damaged body over to the other side. He had to stand there for a moment, eyes closed and swaying slightly, muscles flexing uncontrollably and his fingers dancing like a concerto pianist, attempting to ignore the pain radiating from his shoulder. Concerned, Kate stepped up after him, trying to give him comfort and support without touching him anywhere. Dudley held out a hand to reassure her that he was fine, and with a will he never would have thought attainable, he took one more stair, and then another. His body was crying out for rest and relief, but like the chains in the basement, he knew that if he stopped fighting now, he might not be able to resume later.

And just when his mental strength had debilitated to the level of his physical, he heard Sarah's voice from just out of sight, with the cheer and relief of a last updraft rescuing a plummeting hang glider, "I found the door!"

"That's great!" sighed Kate. "Don't go through yet, you have to wait for us!" Dudley stumbled onward, now using his good arm as a crutch, hobbling like an old man up the stairs.

"Don't worry anyway, I can't go through, the evil monkey-fish won't let me!" Kate and Dudley stopped for a moment, and looked at each other quizzically. Then, like an egg hitting the pavement, Kate cracked up.

"What?" asked Sarah, rounding the corner again, "It's not funny, he's really mean!" She scowled at Kate.

"I'm…sorry!" gasped Kate, coughing and snorting and guffawing in her hysterics, the desperation of the last few hours exploding like a geyser.

"She doesn't believe me," pouted Sarah, sticking out her lower lip and crossing her arms, looking pleadingly at Dudley.

"No, no…I do," choked Kate, but Sarah ignored her. Smiling sadly, Dudley ruffled Sarah's hair with his good arm.

"I believe you Sarah. Where is he hiding?" asked Dudley conspiratorially. Sarah took his hand and led him up a few painful steps, to where he could see the door connecting them to the rest of the house. It was identical to the door at the bottom of the stairs, and Dudley offered a silent prayer that it would be enchanted in the same way, not with some new trap.

"He's right…there!" Sarah pointed accusingly at the second to last step before the door. "And his arms are too long for me to jump over! You're big and tall but I'm too short!" And she reverted immediately to her pout.

Dudley studied the step. It was exactly like every other: dark colored flagstones sealed together nothing more than a tight fit and extreme age, but he knew better than to trust his eyes when wizardry was afoot. "How high over do you think you have to go to stop him from grabbing you?" asked Dudley.

"Maybe…" Sarah contemplated for a moment, "…this much!" she exclaimed stretching her arms out wide, too wide for them to lift or throw her.

Dudley looked at her, than back at the stair. "Does it have to be that much? Do you think you could get over if it were lower?"

Sarah followed his gaze to the step, and propped one hand under her chin in thought. "Well…" She stretched the word over many seconds and pitches. "If he doesn't jump, maybe this much." She opened her arms again to a much narrower margin.

Dudley thought for a moment, then bluffed wildly. "I think he can't jump, even though he looks like a monkey. I think that when they made the house and put him there, they made it so he can't jump." He gritted his teeth, in pain and suspense. If she didn't buy it, he didn't know how they were going to get her over and out, and without her to detect magic; the two of them were doomed as well.

Sarah looked at him suspiciously, then appraisingly, and finally trustingly. "Okay, if you and mommy can lift me over his little stick arms then I think we can get out." Kate had recovered from her fit of hysterics, and was ready to help out. She was probably going to be bearing the brunt of Sarah's weight. With only one arm, Dudley couldn't act as much more than a balancing force.

Sarah climbed the few steps to the one with the creature, and lifted her shoulders a tiny bit, moving her arms away from her side, reminding Dudley of a young bird in a tree, flexing its wings before a flight. Or perhaps a fall. "Mommy, you can throw me from this side, and Daddy, since you're tall you can step onto the other one and pull me up with your arm that isn't hurty." Dudley nodded grimly, and stepped gingerly over the unlucky step, like a child playing 'don't touch the ground'. He needed the assistance of his intact arm pushing off the wall to shift his center of gravity to the higher step, but he succeeded in a few seconds, and held his healthy arm out to Sarah.

Sarah stared at him calmly. "Okay," she said. "I'm ready." Kate came up from behind her and reached out her hands, but a strange strangled noise came from her throat, like a small creature had gotten trapped in there and died, and her face paled even more than its previous state. Her hands hovered a few inches from Sarah's back, like a battlefield medic, knowing what must be done to save a life, but afraid of the agony and repercussions.

"It's okay," said Sarah. "You can touch. Uncle Harry once said that pain for a good thing is the start of courage."

"Harry said that?" asked Dudley.

Sarah shrugged. "Well he didn't say it, but he meant it. I could tell. I might have said what he was thinking." She then looked over her shoulder and nodded to Kate. With the reluctance of a tired mule, Kate placed her hands under Sarah's armpits, her thumbs pressing into Sarah's back. She winced but said nothing.

And at this wildly desperate, inappropriate moment, Dudley succumbed to a reverie of fatherly nostalgia. No child would volunteer for pain, especially not for such an uncertain and hard to quantify reward. But perhaps Sarah was no longer a child. She was certainly not an adult, or even a preteen, but this was a clear transition. For a moment he longed for the days where he could just hug his tiny children and tell them that the pain would be gone, that nothing would hurt them again, but here was his daughter acknowledging that he was wrong, that there were things worth the pain. Or maybe he was just over theorizing in an emotionally vulnerable state, but he couldn't help the pang in his heart of longing to be able to shut out the world, and protect his family.

Sarah exhaled. "One for the money," she whispered, barely audible, except for the echoes of the long staircase. Perhaps his family could protect itself, Dudley conjectured absentmindedly, or at least, fend for themselves in his absence and weakness. "Two for the show."

"Three to get ready," joined Kate, their voices almost harmonizing in the echoing staircase. It was funny that he hadn't noticed just how much the sound reverberated in the stone hallway. Perhaps escape and adrenaline had obscured his attention, he would hardly be surprised. But now that he noticed all the sound blending together, like a piano played with its pedal jammed down. It was eerily beautiful, in its own way.

"And four to GO!" And Sarah was flying through the air, arms flailing wildly, an amalgamation of exhilaration and terror on her face. Dudley was aware that time was flowing at the normal speed, but the sheer amount of observation and hyper-detail his brain was suddenly monitoring made it seem like a million years, like a television show or movie. Kate was stumbling back from the force of her launch, falling away like the pieces breaking off an orbiting rocket, but she had caught herself on a stair and was gazing up at Sarah in awful expectation.

And suddenly she was on the ground, the balls of her feet colliding with the edge of Dudley's stair. Her arms reached out desperately, suddenly unsure of herself and seeking wildly for some hold to prevent her from toppling backwards like her mother. But she needed not worry, for Dudley's arm found hers as sure as a benevolent owl. She smiled, her mouth open and breathing hard as he pulled her towards him.

And suddenly, like a surprise game of tug-of-war, she was yanked back, her feet flying away as if the floor were ice. Some invisible force was pulling her back with a grip like a vice and a force like a vacuum chamber. Her arm slipped in his and she let out a shrill scream of terror. He managed to grab hold once more of the edge of her hand and jerk in the opposite direction, automatically grabbing her wrist with his injured arm and pulling, intense fatherly instincts barreling past the sickening pain, at least for the moment. Sarah kicked wildly, and with the suddenness that it had all begun, it was over, she was released, and sent sprawling into Dudley, bowling them both up the stairs and into the door, against which Dudley cracked his head loudly and painfully. The ceiling directly above the door was blacker than he realized, he thought inexplicably, and it was getting blacker. As a matter of fact, everything was a getting a lot blacker than he…


	29. Chapter 29

**So here's Chapter 29, the penultimate chapter, discounting the epilogue, and definitely the climax. Also probably my longest chapter. Anyway, I have mono right now, so excuse any errors you find. I tried my best. Also, I'm thinking of maybe writing a follow-up story, that could be any scale, big or small. I have a plot and really good characters in my head, and some of it worked out on paper, but I need reviews to see if you guys are still interested. Has your interest in Harry Potter faded now that the last movie is out? Well let me know!**

Dudley must have only been out for a few short seconds, for when he came to; Sarah was only beginning to shake him harder than a preliminary check of well-being. Her face was slowly morphing from exhilaration at her fall to distress at her father's unresponsiveness.

"Daddy?" she asked, a hint of pleading in her voice. "Daddy, wake up!" The only noise Dudley felt comfortable in his ability to deliver coherently was a low groan. Her face flashed relief for a moment, turning almost immediately into a mock-serious chiding. "Daddy, you should try to stay awake right now. You can take a nap once we get home and not an instant before! Humph!" She sounded almost like a nanny reprimanding a naughty child.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he replied, grinning despite the circumstances, and pushing himself up onto his elbow. "I'll try hard to stay awake from now on."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Oh thank goodness, you're alright." Kate's voice sounded almost more like a sigh, only slightly punctuated by the occasional consonant. She was, with much more trepidation than Dudley had demonstrated, climbing over the ersatz stair to the safe section of the staircase. She stumbled a bit as she pulled her lower foot over the stair, but other than that, executed with great grace. "Well, at least we know that the door isn't trapped." She gestured over Dudley's shoulder, and Dudley's gaze followed. Indeed, knocking his head against the door had pushed it marginally open, and the view was unimpeded.

Dudley could see that the floor remained stone, but a luxurious purple rug began at the threshold and, as far as he could tell, ran all the way around the room. It was a safe bet that this was the living section of the mansion, and would thusly remain free from any traps that might seriously injure, though care was still required. One of Dudley's co-workers had once told him of a client who he insured who had almost lost a foot in a bear trap he had set up inside his own house to ward off robbers. The man was later diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, but these witches seemed hardly saner, and Dudley would not put booby trapping their own living room below their level of irrational mistrust.

Dudley pushed himself to his feet with great difficulty, his shoulder sending out nauseating throbs every time a muscle anywhere near exerted itself. It was like a beehive inside his body, attacking mildly with only slight provocation, but ready to disable him completely if he came too close to damaging it again. Kate helped heft him up with one hand on his hip and the other in the armpit of his good arm, but his weight and her already exhausting day rendered her help significantly less valuable than he had expected.

Soon he was on his feet, and getting a nod of approval from Sarah and Kate, he pushed open the heavy oak door. The room beyond was a quirky mix of ancient decay and adaptation for current living. The ceiling was maybe twelve feet high, but above about six feet, thick cobwebs, paint chips, and dust suffused the room like a mess of jungle vines hanging over a barren landscape. There were portraits, and the heads of strange creatures mounted on the walls, but they were obscured by the webs like a cloud. At about the level of Kate's head though, the cobwebs suddenly ceased, as if the entire room had once been engulfed in the chronic mildew staleness, but, without even a preliminary cleaning, someone had walked around the room until it was cleared, at least to the level of their head. As evidence, there were deep furrows in the carpet, as if someone had been pacing, and though there was a thick layer of dust on most of the furniture, a moth-plagued armchair seemed to have more recent impressions on it, and the end table next to it was half cleaned, seeming like someone who did not care much for the cleanliness of their clothes had wiped off the dust with their sleeve.

Directly in front of them was a fireplace, seeming not to have been lit for decades, as the minute gusts of wind that drifted lazily down the chimney had scattered the ashes of the last fire across the flagstones, a splatter of grayish-white paint on a dull canvas. A dresser, untouched by this unhygienic wanderer, as evidenced by the aged skin of dust on its surface, almost thick enough to have ripples, like desert dunes, was arranged perfectly on one wall, the door to the rest of the mansion next to it.

The walls were a dull grey, the color so beautiful when preceding the light of a sunrise, but so hideous in its absence. The very existence of that color seemed a relic, an antique of an age before beauty, but it was this color that was splayed in blotchy stains all over the walls, running from the fireplace and its collapsing chair, to the dresser, to the wall where Dudley stood with his family, and the fourth wall, where there was only…

A bookcase. Dudley caught only a glance of it before every good thing he had ever learned seized control of his brain and jerked his head away, a sort of moral gag reflex. But even in that glance, he caught sight of dozens of books, small and large, mostly black, but seeming to dye the very air that color. Some seemed ancient, of arts that should be long forgotten, some were most certainly products of anthropedermic bibliopegy. Others seemed more modern, but had the roughness of a book that no decent publisher could ever put out in good conscious, the evil so profound, so unquestionably beyond any moral jurisdiction that its very existence was an affront to all that was good in the world. It was books like this that made some doubt the existence of a God, and with good reason in Dudley's mind.

Even the short glance he had accidentally partaken of had filled his heart with a kind of earthy, primal sludge that seemed to now be pumping through his veins instead of blood, elevating the animal, the inhuman, the Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll. The morality of the beast with the power and reasoning of a man, all made print. It was disturbing, terrifying even, to think that one's soul could be so damaged, so desperate and depraved, that they could stand to look at such books, to read them, to agree with them, and in that ultimate step of abandonment of all that is transcendent in the human soul, practice what they recommended. It was reminiscent of Nietzsche's thoughts on the abyss, for as surely as the reader would interpret the writing, so would its subtle, malicious warping twist their mind into ostracizing all that the reader had formerly held dear.

Even from a short glance, he knew that, contained somewhere in those volumes, were the secrets to breeding a basilisk. To unleash the hellish Fiendfyre. To create a Horcrux. And Dudley's soul was unwell.

"Come on," said Dudley, still averting his eyes, nausea from the pain now paling in comparison to his repulsion from the bookcase. "There's nothing here for us."

And suddenly, a muffled, wheezing voice on the wall, invisible behind the cobwebs rang out, a chord of curiosity, suspicion, and fear: "Hello?"

Dudley froze, and looked at Kate desperately. She reciprocated, but left them no better off. Sarah clung to Dudley's leg and let out a little gasp. Dudley looked down at her and, attempting to display courage and solace he did not feel, he raised one finger to his lips. Sarah nodded slowly, fear seeming now permanently etched in her face. This was the kind of experience that had potential to scar her for life, if he didn't get her out soon. Or, he reminded himself, if he could get her out at all.

"Miss Fang?" The voice came again from behind the cobwebs. At the bottom of their thick formation, Dudley noticed a new feature: the frame of a massive portrait hanging down a few centimeters below the cobwebs, a sliver of brown directly above it, the background of an aged portrait now rendered useless by the dust. "Miss Fang?" the voice repeated, this time with a bit more confidence, a hint of accusation.

Dudley slowly lifted one foot, tiptoeing towards the door to the rest of the mansion, overemphasizing each movement, trying to convey to his family to do the same. They caught on and continued, the once valuable rug muffling their steps.

"Miss Fang," continued the voice imperiously, "you really do need to clean this room. This is my finest frame, and I can't even see your most beautiful face. I can't even tell if you really are my favorite six times great granddaughter. Or if you are perhaps that…other woman." The portrait spoke as if he had just eaten something very bitter, but the venom in his last two words would have shamed a basilisk.

Dudley had reached the door. He grasped the knob, and began to turn with the speed of dripping molasses, when the portrait commanded him: "Brista! If you are in fact my mistress, you will stop now before you leave this room, and clean my portrait. You have nothing to fear from doing so and it will take you the effort of flicking your wand. If I am wrong in my suspicions you may do as you see fit, but I have reason to doubt your identity, so I demand, clean me now!"

Dudley looked searchingly at Kate, and jerked his head towards the door, asking her by gesture if she could run with Sarah and him once he threw it open and their cover was blown. She nodded with a steel in her eyes that Dudley had seen but rarely, and at once made him love her for it, and wish that she had never had to utilize such determination. Dudley held up three fingers, looking at Sarah, who nodded as well.

"Brista?" Three.

"Brista?" Two.

"Brista!" One.

And with the technique of a boxer and the force of a lightning bolt, Dudley shoved open the door, to reveal a long hall extending to the right, with a single large portrait directly before the door, blank, but for a posing pedestal. And suddenly, with vim defying his looks, an aged, withered man with bloated and droopy eyes, and a smile twisted in malicious pleasure darted into the portrait with a loud "HA!"

He froze very suddenly, his eyes, once beautiful, now reeking of vice, sending unexpected and confusing signals to his distraught brain. For an absurd second, Dudley remembered a quote from The Picture of Dorian Gray that Kate had read him, and wondered if that story had been based in fact.

"You're not…" The portrait paused in befuddlement. Opened his mouth once or twice, then sprinted down the hall, screaming at the top of his lungs: "INTRUDER! MISS FANG! INTRUDER! MISS FANG!"

"RUN!" yelled Dudley and he barreled down the hall, Kate and Sarah close behind him. In times of mortal peril, petty things like pain seemed to vanish and his priorities vanished behind the overwhelming need for survival.

The hall was long and narrow, necessitating Kate and Sarah staying behind him as they ran. Fortunately, it was also packed from wall to wall with dusty, ancient portraits, and the figure they had seen had to traverse every one of them to get to the next. He gained a greater lead with every blank patch of wall, but was held up on every crowded or rugged scene. They almost passed him at painting of Sherpas ascending a snow engulfed mountain, but he regained his head start at every door, as there were no pictures hanging from them. Other portraits were beginning to rouse themselves too, yelling bad temperedly at their rude awakening, questioning with a grumble, or perhaps discerning the source themselves, and yelling for their mistress, adding to the cacophony. Some began to run as well, but none of them had acquired the full sprint of the original portrait, and were minor concerns compared to the embodiment, or rather, emportraitment of Dorian Gray.

Had he the time to register his surroundings, Dudley probably would have found the noises of the hallway to be odd, as the dusty, carpeted floor muffled their steps like powdery snow, while the portraits around them yelled and blared like the rows of televisions in a news room, or the control room for some important event. Their sound bouncing around the otherwise silent hallway made the experience almost unreal.

Dudley was beginning to gain on the sprinting portrait, but to his despair, near the end of the hall was a huge double door, leading to some sort of ballroom, followed by a large blank patch. As this wicked old man they chased travelled from portrait to portrait, his lead would leap unreachably high, unless he were somehow halted before then, an idea that Dudley's brain, now flooded with adrenaline and other more potent chemicals, seized onto, a falling climber grappling for a rope.

Most of the portraits were attached to the wall perfectly, with either well concealed bolts, or with magic, but a few dozen feet down there was a large painting covering the surface from ceiling to floor, depicting three witches cackling over a cauldron, out of which was rising a ghostly armored head, bobbing in the mist like a sickly apple. This painting was affixed to the wall by no more than a cord tied to a rusty nail in the ceiling.

The old man from the portrait suddenly lost his lead as he crashed into an old lady riding a cow backwards, a scene that would have been comic if not for background: a decimated battlefield. Dudley seized the opportunity and lunged forward to the scene with the witches, and motioning Sarah and Kate on, he planted his feet, and, waiting for Dorian Gray to enter the picture, he ripped it off the wall and hurled it to the floor. The witches squawk mingled with the muffled "MISS FANG!" and the sounds of disarray from the falling scenery as well as the witches own brew.

Dudley bounded over the portrait, but was almost overcome by nausea from his shoulder. He steadied himself against the wall, and then charged, head down like a rhino. He resisted the urge to roar out his pain, for the commotion was likely enough to alert their captors without any help from him. He bit his lip, sucking in deep breaths in from his nose, every muscle quivering in pain, almost losing his balance, ready to sprawl forward like a crash landing plane, out of fuel and severely malfunctioning. He closed his eyes and waited, a tree ready for the final swing of the axe.

"Dudley!" exclaimed Kate suddenly, from right in front of him. She had stopped moving, and her arms cushioned his momentum just enough to keep him upright, and barely preventing him from slamming them both into an upwards staircase running perpendicular to the hallway.

He looked around, bewildered. The hallway had ended in a room that looked familiar, like variations on a musical theme. It was then that his memory and powers of observation aligned to realize that they were now in the entrance hall to the manor, the room he had caught a few horrid glances of before his cognizance faded.

Dorian Gray had recovered from his spill and barreled into a huge portrait on the wall, still screaming, but the second he got there, swift-minded Sarah drew across it a massive, purple curtain, so dusty that an inhalation too near it might cause permanent damage. A few muffled noises escaped the thick folds, but they dampened the noise as efficiently as they trapped dust, and there were no other portraits nearby. Down the hall, the yelling was increasing, but it was mere background noise now. The only danger of discovery was if one of the two witches themselves walked in.

"Okay," said Dudley, as he struggled to regain his breath. If the commotion in the hallway hadn't alerted the witches to their presence, a little conversation at normal volumes couldn't possibly be that risky. "Let's assess the situation. Outside that door is our only confirmed route to freedom, in addition to a definite route to the Auror squad. Those are the pros. Unfortunately, there is almost definitely at least one of the witches out there somewhere to keep an eye on them, either on the front porch, or watching from a window somewhere."  
"I actually haven't noticed any windows in this house," observed Kate, "So it's a good bet that one of the witches themselves are out on the porch."

"There's one right there!" offered Sarah, pointing at the wall on the other side of the door. Dudley and Kate jumped, before realizing that "one" was referring to windows and not witches. Indeed, behind another set of curtains that Dudley had assumed to hide another large portrait was the edge of an intricate windowsill.

"Okay," nodded Dudley, still slightly startled. I'll take a peek behind those curtains, and if the way is clear, or if we can somehow help out the battle."

Kate looked nervous, but finally relented. "Okay, if you think you'll be fine. Just keep your head down, we don't want her to notice we've escaped yet." Dudley cocked his head grimly, and like ripping off a band-aid, slowly peeled back the curtain concealing the window. He was met with an explosion of sound, the auditory equivalent of standing in front of a high-powered spotlight as the cover is removed. He almost stumbled back, but managed to keep his composure and edge his eyes over the bottom corner of the windowsill. He was met with a sight unreal to behold.

It was almost dusk, the sun fading brown-orange over the distant horizon, but its light was nothing compared to the rainbow of flashes and flames erupting over this sheltered neighborhood. Dozens, maybe hundred of Aurors were set up behind magical barricades, objects that looked like long white sheets of Teflon, but would merely shimmer instead of exploding whenever they were blasted by a hex. Still, they looked as if they were taking a beating, as many had large holes in them, and many more had been destroyed entirely, smoldering with a noxious chemical smoke, the unfortunate Aurors scrambling for cover. Up above all of them, maybe twenty feet in the air was a hovering, slowly rotating diesel transportation truck, its tank ruptured and crushed like tinfoil, and flammable gasoline spewing forth, igniting, and, at an unseen command, whipping away from the truck to the ground like mad brushstrokes in a Jackson Pollock painting. It was this, it seemed that was causing the most harm, as it was not strictly magical, and thus the barriers were unprepared for it, the Aurors burned as they tried to throw up shields only effective versus magical energy.

The Aurors were returning fire in an unceasing barrage of red, orange, yellow, blue, sometimes even purple curses, but they seemed to be absorbed by the house itself, sucked towards it with an inexplicable magnetism, then dissipated, leaving about as much a mark as the mildew that had been slowly eating at the house for centuries. No matter what they tried, the enchantments of the house were more than equal to their firepower.

And suddenly, the author of this terrible chaos, this massive increase in entropy, Brista Fang danced in front of the window. Dudley shrunk back in terror, but her back was to him, she was more concerned with the giant playground of destruction in front of her. She laughed, gasping for breath with a desperation and madness that Dudley had never seen before. It seemed like her laugh was on her inhalations, not her exhalations, making it squeak and wheeze in her throat, an almost comical sound, but desperate and insane at the same time, far more than the cliché mad cackling that would have been expected. Dudley was no expert on anything wizarding, especially combat, but even her approach to this seemed different from anything he had seen. The tanker was his first evidence, but when a particularly deadly barrage of spells came from behind a magical barrier housing three especially emphatic Aurors, instead of merely returning the fire, she caught her breath, and with a thrill of amazement at her own power and ingenuity, whispered, "_Accio Rolls-Royce!_" And immediately, the classic car was flipping, rolling over its sides toward the barrier from behind. The Aurors, still watching her wand for a hex in their direction barely noticed the priceless car tumbling at them from behind until it was almost too late, and only just dove out of the way, seeking the nearest cover desperately.

Brista released the spell from the car, letting it roll and crash raucously in her front yard, and raised her wand for a killing blow against the unprotected Aurors. She would have certainly executed it as well; save for a masterfully aimed Stunning Spell that whizzed past the house's magnetism and nearly struck her in the chest. She only diverted it with a rapid Shield that destroyed her opportunity to kill the unprotected Aurors. Her laugh transformed into a snarl of rage as she looked for the wizard responsible, and settled her gaze on a redheaded mage in the barrier nearest to the house. With a sudden weight in his stomach like swallowing a barbell, Dudley realized that it was Ron. Brista lifted her wand to retaliate, but the Aurors seemed to have finally calibrated their aim, Ron's spell as their example, and two or three other hexes quickly shot through. Unfortunately, the weak spot on the defenses did not correspond very well to Brista's position, but a Paralyzing Jinx that barely missed the hole in the defenses seemed to shatter as it passed through, leaving a shotgun blast of miniature hexes. Brista caught a few of them on her cloak, and though she was unharmed, a few dozens tiny holes now smoked acridly below her left arm.

She scowled, but knew that her advantage was fading quickly, and with the enthusiasm of a sadistic child, she played her trump card. _"Incendio!"_ she screamed, a sociopathic grin on her face, the narcissism of power, enamored with her own ability to destroy. The flaming hex whiffed past the now cowering Aurors, high over their heads, into the heart of the ruptured diesel tanker. With an explosion that seemed to rend Dudley's eardrums, the tanker vanished, consumed entirely by the power which it had formerly carried. But before Dudley could even think, before anyone could fight the explosion, dive out of the way, do anything more than see its terrible maw racing to consume them, the explosion froze, as swiftly as if some bored viewer had pressed the pause button on a truly universal remote.

But perhaps that was an inaccurate metaphor, for motion did not halt entirely. Like a miniature sun, the ball of flame still burned in the air, without falling or expanding as was its wont. Pieces of the tanker's shell, huge deadly metal shuirkens spun wildly in the air, as quickly as motors, but halted in their trajectory to rain death and destruction down below them. Peering closer, Dudley could even the shockwave, shimmering faintly in the air, like a heat mirage rising from the road in the summer. The Aurors looked at each other in confusion, but the battle had halted as suddenly and inexplicably as the explosion.

"The gig's up!" barked Brista harshly, all her former sadistic glee suddenly vanishing. Her voice seemed to profane the sudden silence of the battle. "No one attempt to erect delay hexes around the truck, or I'll release the magic before they can take effect." She glared around, and satisfied that no one was disobeying her, began a seemingly well rehearsed speech. "Harry Potter," she spoke in a voice of terrible power and authority, "Arise!"

"Don't do it, Harry," whispered Dudley from behind the curtain. Harry did not reveal himself from the mass of Aurors cowering behind their barriers, staring at the flaming sun above their heads like deer in the headlights. Brista scoffed.

"As if I couldn't kill you right now by releasing the spell-holds keeping that tanker afloat and in time suspension. You might as well reveal yourself. There needs be only one casualty today."

"What makes you so sure it won't be your own?" called a voice from the crowd, as a figure arose, the majestic form of Harry Potter. The heroism and selflessness of the moment almost brought tears to Dudley's eyes, as something like a movie soundtrack played in his head, completing the moment.

"Don't," whispered Dudley. "Don't!"

"Come forward," hissed Brista, reminding Dudley of a corrupt judge high on his throne.

"Don't do it!" cried another Auror, jumping to his feet. He looked too old to be out in the field like this, but fortunately, it was no one Dudley knew. Brista's face twitched in annoyance, and with a flick of her wand, an almost molten piece of razor-sharp shrapnel the size of a dinner plate suddenly resumed its movement, hurtling perfectly into the man's chest, impaling him, and before Dudley could even register what his eyes had seen, knocking the man to the ground and probably pining him, though Dudley could not see the outcome from his vantage point.

Brista's face resumed its mask of calm and with a twisted, almost mischievous grin, she shrugged. "Perhaps two casualties."

Harry took a slow step forward. Even from his great distance, Dudley could see Ron frantically mouthing words at Harry, making wild gestures that at the same time attempted to be subdued, as to avoid Brista's attention. Harry took another step, it seemed an eternity since the first, and yet his movement never stopped. He seemed to glide between each footfall.

"Why so reluctant?" mocked Brista. "You've walked to your death once, is it so much harder the second time?"

"Maybe a little," agreed Harry, a steel in his voice that had won him so many followers in the first place. "It's hard to admit defeat when there are so many options left open."

Brista laughed, sounding like some kind of horrid dying animal. "True, true, you could always flee, but how many deaths would you be responsible for?"

"None," he replied suavely. "The murders would be yours alone, a fact I have long since learned to accept."

Brista scowled. "Don't play games," she lectured. "You could not live with this many deaths on your conscience, whether it was you who dealt the final blow or not."

"I suppose," Harry agreed, clearly stalling for time. He was now a dozen or so feet away from the nearest cover. "But I've lived with more. I've escaped worse scrapes than this."

"Have you indeed?" cooed Brista appraisingly.

"You're no Voldemort," replied Harry, now deadly serious.

"Ha!" Brista sneered. "And I am glad of it. I would never wish to be cursed with such pathetically earthy ambitions."

"So," Harry replied, now trying to hide his confusion, "You're no long forgotten Death Eater?"

Brista shook her head slowly, joyfully, maliciously. "You may stop there." Harry halted, halfway to the porch where Brista stood. "Harry Potter," she spoke in tones so soft and delicate, that Dudley felt as though he should have to strain to hear them, but they were as clear as if she were an inch from his ear. "For the damnation of the pure-blood race, for the infamy and destruction thrust upon them, and for your work in this awful genocide, I condemn you to death."

Now it was Harry's turn to laugh. "The pure-blood race? I tell you now," he replied, her high tone of argument influencing his speech, "that this is what was left of the pure-bloods when I found them. Death!" he spat, gesturing at the barricade with his fallen companion. "Decay!" he opened his arms to encompass the entire house, long outdated and indeed falling to rubble. "Madness!" he hissed, his finger pointing like a sword of judgment at Brista.

But she just cackled at his accusation. "I am complimented that you think me so exalted," she laughed, like a malicious reader reveling in the dramatic irony. "But I am not so pure. I am no more than a Keeper of true purity, a warden of the clean. I stand here today only because, I am not pure, nor was my mother, nor hers, nor hers before her. It is an unseen crime you have committed, perhaps beyond even your knowledge. But not beyond truth. Drop your wand!" she ordered like an angel of darkness. Harry clutched his only lifeline, his only weapon even tighter, though he held it now by his side. "Drop your wand." It was now not even a command, it was an imperative. Past this juncture was the point of no return. His death if he let it go, others if it remained.

"Funny that you cling more desperately to life in middle-age decrepitude than in the bloom of health and vigor. Perhaps the heroism has faded as your body has, as you are so eager to accuse, decayed." Harry stood his ground. "But seeing as you clearly do not care for the lives of your co-workers, these Aurors," she gestured back at the alert squad. "And as they do seem so willing to give their lives for yours…rather like…lemmings." She nodded, approving of her metaphor. "Perhaps innocent victims will sway your resolve." Harry started, but kept his wand.

"I have in my basement a rather charming young Muggle family; I believe you have some acquaintance with them." Harry opened his mouth once or twice, like a fish unsure of which way would take him back to the water. "They are bound in an Infinitus Chain, circled around a pole, and crushed till the air that might be able to find its way into their lungs could barely keep them alive, and certainly not conscious, if you were worried about them being in any pain. That is given, of course, that they have not struggled, but they seemed a bright young group."

"What do you want?" demanded Harry desperately.

Brista scoffed. "You know what I want, don't make me repeat myself." She smoothed back her wild hair. "Now, the interesting thing that makes Infinitus Chains so interesting is their unique deadly formula. The more links there are, the stronger the magic is that drains the unfortunate captives of their life. The less links there are, the tighter the chain, and…well, we already know what would happen then. The only remaining question is which was should I twist the chain?"

She held up her wand, and began to slowly circle it in a counter-clockwise direction. "Looser chain? More links? More deadly, despairing, freezing magic?"

"No!" stuttered Harry. "I…don't…" If only Harry could see him! Dudley considered waving or drawing attention, but Brista was far more likely to notice than Harry, and he doubted that she cared his particular method of death.

"Really?" she asked, a bemused smile on her face, and she began moving her wand in the opposite direction. "Tighter then? A more gruesome, if probably less painful ending. I suppose it fits these vile, cowardly creatures though, doesn't it?"

"Stop!" And Harry's wand fell to the ground. And at that moment, Dudley knew he must act. He stood up from behind the curtain, and marched to the front door.

"What's going on?" hissed Kate. "Is everything okay?"

"Stay here," Dudley ordered, as cruel and forceful a voice as he could muster. This was no time for sentimentality. Dudley cracked open the front door and it let out a hideous squeal, but also allowed in the sounds from outside. Based on the dialogue, Brista seemed not to have heard it open.

"Very good," she soothed. "With action that speedy, you're likely to have saved two of their lives."

"Two?" asked Harry, his voice now choking up.

"I'm so sorry, dear," mocked Brista, "but those chains were terribly tight already. I'd be impressed and very surprised if the fat one survived that incredible pressure."

And Dudley could not resist the poeticism of the moment. As calm as a floating butterfly, Dudley gave the door a gentle shove, and it swung open. There was a collective gasp from the Aurors as Brista turned, a mask of rage and confusion at this interruption of her most joyous moment.

"Surprised?" asked Dudley, and with the precision of a stinging bee and the rage of a father, he slammed his fist into Brista's face. She was knocked off her feet, sprawling back across the porch, her wand, formerly positioned to kill Harry, now skittering across the wood.

"NOW!" screamed Ron, and hundred hexes, all timed perfectly, slammed into the side of the house, the combined force finally exceeding the load capacity of the magical barrier, and, with a rip like the sound of tearing plastic wrap, a formerly invisible barrier revealed itself as a shockwave exploding in every direction. Dudley was picked up off his feet and sent tumbling down the steps of the porch, while Harry barely dove to the ground in time, scrambling for his wand. The truck, no longer bound by Brista's magic finally unleashed its massive potential energy in a deafening explosion, but the Aurors, under Ron's prepared leadership, had just enough time to erect a dozen spell barriers, this time material instead of arcane, designed to protect them from the much more apparent danger of shrapnel than the errant hexes of one woman. The flames however were too much to be contained, and burst through the cracks in the mosaic of shields like an inverse disco-ball. The wild, rampant flames were too wide-spread to allow the Aurors to help Dudley anymore on the porch.

Brista had quickly adapted to the situation and leapt to her feet, less like a cat and more like some kind of hissing giant spider. She sprinted to the end of the porch where her wand was lying uncontested. Dudley tried to push himself up, but his shoulder finally gave out on him, and like a crane whose cables have snapped, Dudley could no longer lift anything, even himself. But Kate had never taken kindly to obeying Dudley's orders, and rocketed out of the open door reliving her glory days as a runner in her early schooling. Brista was diving, her hands grabbing at the wand, but Kate was leaping over her like a ballerina, unconcerned with acquiring the wand, only in stopping Brista. And, with perfect aim, her heel landed right in the middle of the wand, snapping it like a toothpick. Her momentum carried her forward, much like the Rolls-Royce that had come skidding across the yard, but she stopped herself on the banister marking the edge of the porch, a proud and triumphant grin on her face as she turned to face Dudley.

But Brista was already slowly rising to her feet, the severed halves of her wand held as delicately as the corpse of a child in her uncouth hands. She was making strange noises, sharp exhalations that could be either laughs of unbelief or sobs of inexpressible sorrow. "Kate! Look out!" cried Dudley, trying to lift himself with his other arm. But Brista seemed hardly to notice Kate. She seemed far more concerned with the now gently vibrating shards of polished wood in her hands. The were shaking like an automatic massage machine, and beginning to glow with heat, and Brista's ambiguous emotion suddenly resolved, into a mad, sadistic fury. With a wretched penchant for vengeance, she thrust both halves of her wand in opposite directions like they were ordinary guns, the broken halves pointed away from her. The vibration of the wands was now so strong that Dudley could feel it even from meters away, rattling his very bones, but Brista's face wore the mask of quietude, the bridal veil of madness. The very air around the fragments of wand seemed to be distorting, bending, sometimes even vanishing altogether, leaving Dudley wondering what he was looking at.

"Muggles and defilers…" she breathed, gently, murderously, though beginning a crescendo into a scream. "Whether by the divine power or my own, you shall feel HELLFIRE!"

And then, the wand released a spell. Not the last spell used, as some spells reveal, or even the frequently used, but the most powerful, the one that had left the greatest scar branded into the invisible interior of the wand's identity. Jets of flame the size of waterfalls erupted from the severed ends of the wand, demons of flame cackling in their consuming glee, one pointed towards the already engulfed Aurors, the other towards her own house. The force of the explosion knocked Brista back into a wall, slamming her head into the edge of a bench, where she crumpled and lay still. But Dudley had only one thought in his mind.  
"SARAH!"

And before he could even realize it, he was on his feet, inside the house, which was already submerged in this hellish inferno. His shoulder no longer burned, his mind had been seized by the long dormant beast, the animal instincts demanding survival and protection of offspring. He rushed around desperately, roaring her name, when he heard a scream of panic from the far back wall, and saw a frail form enveloped in a vortex of swirling orange and read, dragons and chimaeras spitting flame downward to the helpless figure inside. Sarah shrieked, not of pain or surprise this time, but of complete loss of control. Her voice was wavering, he could hear her hyperventilating.

Without a thought for his own safety, Dudley charged forward like a bull, smashing through a wall of flame, but serpent-like tendrils whipped out and grabbed around his arms and legs, not some amorphous stream, but solid as scalding ropes. Dudley roared in pain and anger as he crashed to the ground but pulled himself out of their reach, gagging on the sickly tender smell of his own burning flesh as his skin sizzled off his body.

But he was up again, pulled by force of the fire itself trying to hold him back. But there is no holding back a train, and that was what Dudley had become. He snapped his wrist away from the long blazing fingers of a jet of flame taking the essence of a Grindylow, and barreled into the flaring vortex, grabbing desperately for something more real than the mocking, slaughtering fire.

And suddenly, she was in his arms, sobbing and screaming all at once, the fire licking around his ankles hungrily, but he kept running. He couldn't stop now, the cursed spell had re-grown behind him, forming into impenetrable walls of certain death. But ahead, ahead of him there was a wall, even before weak from the decay of a thousand generations of neglect, now collapsing from the rampant fire. It was his only hope. If he could break through, and there was nothing but the ground of the mansion outside, he might be able to limp his way to safety. And so, ignoring the accumulated knowledge of thirty-something years, telling him to avoid ramming any part of his body into anything that seemed solid, he kept the course, aiming at a section of wall that seemed to be between studs.

He hit the wall with the force of a full logging truck, heard a crack, felt a simultaneous explosion of pain, and suddenly he was on the ground. He managed to crack open his eyes a millimeter past the obligatory tears already evaporating from his searing face. He was still in the room. The wall had not collapsed. The fire was advancing on him with the maleficent sentience of a being knowing it was about to take two lives. All that was flowing into Dudley's lungs was ash, and the vile smell of himself as the meal of this creature, this incarnation of flame. His eyes were blocked, smoke seemed to trickle from his very pores as the flames lunged at his feet, dragging him into the fire, but he had not the energy to fight. After all, who could it be but death himself, dark, cloaked, standing in the door, raising his wand, uttering as spell, releasing a black translucent jet of magic. It was funny, Dudley had never really thought of Death as a wizard, but it did seem to make sense, especially in the context of the story of the Deathly Hallows, thought Dudley, as the jet slammed into his chest, ripped him from the reach of the flame, and pummeled his body against the wall.

Dudley's head hurt, he thought noncommittally. Funny what thoughts ran through his mind at times of desperation. Sarah was below him, seemingly unharmed and yelling, pleading with him, holding his hands, though all he could hear and feel was a fading ringing in his ears, and a numbness settling over his body. The second jet hit, and Dudley was driven through the wall like a nail, Sarah yanked along as she refused to relinquish her grip on his hands.

And they were rolling, rolling, rolling down a long, steep, luxuriously grassy slope. Not a bad heaven, thought Dudley, as his body issued the ultimate rebellion, and shut down entirely.

**So everyone remember to review! I'll have the next chapter up in a week, and the epilogue a week after that, which should give you plenty of time to tell me if you're all interested in another story, this one with a much more defined plot from the very beginning. And some more original characters, meaning with actual personalities. Tell me what you think!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Here's the final chapter. An Epilogue will be up in a few days, probably Saturday. I still need reviews to tell me if you all are interested in another story. I already have the first chapter done, but I'm not going to bother to upload it if the interest is only half-hearted.**

Dudley, Kate, and Sarah sit across from each other in the back of a ministry medical truck, staring at each other, and wondering what they could possibly say. Outside, there was still the subdued crackling of charred timbers collapsing on themselves as the Magical Disaster Control Unit doused the last of the flames in an oxygen draining substance, something even the hellish fire that Brista had unleashed could not live without. Fiendfyre, they had called it. It was the name that Harry had used in his story, and the name that had jumped to his mind when he saw that dreaded bookcase. He shuddered even thinking about it. At least that was destroyed. One less refuge for Dark Magic.

Dudley shifted uncomfortably, and the burns marring his entire body stung, as if someone was stroking them. Dudley scowled at the pale green blanket around his shoulders. It was supposed to be the latest in magical remedies, able to heal almost any wound without the presence of an actual Healer. To Dudley though, it just felt like a mild and annoying balm. Still, if it carried out on its no scar promise, it would be worth the discomfort. He didn't look forward to telling all his old friends how he had become the new embodiment of Two-Face.

Kate had received less of the blast, and needed a light green patch of fabric about the size of a towel to drape over her arm that had been burned in the blast, while magical cleanup pads were left for any other scrapes or injuries she should discover.

The curious thing though, the one not even the wizards expected, was Sarah. She was totally unharmed. Even the wounds on her back seemed to have closed, cauterized by the flames that had been whirling around her, and yet she was unhurt. Extremely pale, yes. Nervous, yes. But totally unharmed. When Dudley, still half-delusional, had been first loaded into the truck, he had heard one of the healers mutter under his breath, "That's underage magic for you." Truly an amazing thing.

Dudley shifted again, racking his pain-wearied brain for an apt metaphor. At least that would give him vindication, describe what he was feeling accurately so that he could always remember. It was like…fingers, no not fingers. It was like, long, well filed nails were being slowly slid across his injuries, except that they were omnipresent. Wherever he was hurt, there was the unpleasant school nurse gently dragging her fingers across his wounds. It wasn't exactly enough pain to make him want to ask for sedation or relief, but it was ubiquitous enough for him to feel as if he deserved it. Especially after a day like today.

And suddenly Harry plopped down next to him in the truck. Dudley could tell that he hadn't used magic, he was just used to moving undetected after so many years in the field, and Dudley's mind wasn't as sharp as it had been, even just earlier today. Dudley looked over at him, and Harry sighed, head hanging on his chest. He looked haggard, old, beat-up, a shell of a man. It was mildly disturbing when Dudley realized that Harry was younger than he was.

"I've said it before, and I know I'll be saying it again, but, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime." Harry looked up with a weak smile, a hope that the long buried joke could still be resurrected.

Dudley nodded in agreement, and winked tiredly. They sat there in silence for a moment, enjoying the moment of camaraderie before business, the moment of knowing that all four of them had survived. But Dudley had to know.

"Is there any sign of…"

"…the other witch?" Harry completed. "None. Physical evidence is nothing but ash. If you hadn't mentioned her when you woke up, we wouldn't have even started to suspect anything but a lone, mad renegade. Probably dismissed her ravings as an ex-Deatheater we never knew about, even though she claimed not to be impressed by Voldemort. But her statement, plus evidence of a leader, maybe even a planner, it makes me wonder…"

Dudley let Harry plumb his thoughts for a minute, but the silence lapsed into true reverie, and Dudley had to restart the conversation if he wanted information. "…if there are any others out there?" he suggested.

Harry looked surprised that his question had been taken as anything beyond rhetorical. "If there are people in this world who worship insanity," he completed eloquently. "Just when you think you've cut off the head, another one rises, and the followers always seem to be the same," he explained. "Or at least the same type," he justified.

There was another break, but it was Harry who restarted the conversation this time. "We found Agnes, by the way." Kate and Sarah looked up, surprised by the only human connection they had to this diabolical duo. "The real one. The other victim." Dudley looked at Harry with hope, instantly extinguished by the grim darkness in Harry's green eyes. "Dead." A little blunt, but maybe that was the best way to deliver the new. "We found her in the only parts remaining of the mansion, the network of dungeons and tunnels. Your cell wasn't the only one."

"Was it the fire?" ventured Kate queasily.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Well, no. Well, yes, but not in the way you're thinking." Sarah looked up at him, too tired to even venture a guess, to want anything but her own warm bed, and her parents and brother safe and sound around her.

"Asphyxiated," clarified Harry. "Even the magical fire didn't have the energy to burn down the stone passageway, but it sucked away all the oxygen, like a massive vacuum and…"

"Stop!" cried Kate, looking a little green. Sarah was leaning on her lap, pale as a ghost.

"Sorry," apologized Harry, no longer looking the grizzled veteran, now just a young boy, full of remorse, trying to cover up his own mistakes. That was one thing Dudley could never live with as an Auror. The massive consequences of your own actions were playing with the guilt of even an un-debated hero like Harry, to an ordinary man on the sidelines…

"Dudley," ventured Harry cautiously, as if asking him permission, though for what Dudley didn't know. "It gets worse." Dudley felt a blow in his stomach, like the punch of pressurized air. Harry only looked at Dudley searchingly for a moment.

"Harry," Dudley responded, "My ignorance won't change the truth, and my permission probably can't protect me from that."

"You may think that, but I've learned things it would have been better for me not to have known." From the look on his face, Dudley wondered if he was thinking about Dumbledore's past, and took a jab.

"Are you sad you know them now?"

There was a beat.

"No."

Dudley looked at Kate, who nodded Sarah was unresponsive, and Dudley motioned with a sweep of his arm to continue.  
"Brista's gone," stated Harry with a blunt finality. Somehow Dudley was not surprised, but it hurt and frightened him nonetheless. He felt like a rabbit sighting a dog, and knowing he was far from his kennel.

"How?" asked Dudley. "Not even a witch could escape that many Aurors." It was a fact, not a compliment.

"I knew it was always a possibility, the transfer is sometimes the most dangerous part of the entire arrest. Not this time, but, well, she didn't even struggle. She just stared with those huge, black eyes, like she was being abducted by aliens. She would twist her neck at unearthly angles just to look at ordinary stuff, like, I don't know, Floo fireplaces. Well, ordinary for wizards," he corrected. "Anyway, I knew something was wrong when we got her into the holding cell, about…I'd say forty-five minutes after her arrest, and I walked in to make sure the paperwork clerk was safe, and she just looked me straight in the eyes, her pupils the size of at least a sickle, and she just said…" Harry's voice cracked, a child choking on his confession. This business never got easier for him. "…just said… 'I'm not her.' And I looked, and I made sure, but I couldn't get this feeling out of my head…so I called the interrogator up early. Anyway, while he was coming, every new person who came into the room could get nothing out of 'im but 'I'm not her,' and he said it to every person who came in." Dudley noted with growing suspicion and alarm Harry's sudden change of pronouns. "And suddenly he began to foam at the mouth, and cough like there was a rat in his lung, and her face began turning into his, and I ran for the doctor and…" Harry stopped, breathing hard, but they all knew where this story ended. "Gone. Nothing but a poor old…Confunded, Poisoned, Transfigured Muggle from next door, grabbed while we were focusing on the fire instead of her supposedly unconscious body."

There was a long break at the end of his tale, as he sat, head in his hands, running them through his always untamable hair. Kate sat up, a thought piercing her like an arrow. "Does Dustin know?" Harry looked up and nodded.

"Originally, as is the policy for underage students, we put him under strict protection at the school without a justification or explanation. Cruel, I know," Harry said, holding up his hand to silence Dudley's protest, "but Ministry policy, and with sensitive children, better than knowing that their family is in danger, but not what the results are. Sometimes ambiguity can be worse than finality. But by the time all of that was arranged, the siege was almost over, and he only spent…" Harry calculated in his head, but ended up just throwing out an unsupported guess. "…a half an hour…before he knew that you had been kidnapped, and returned safely." Kate sighed in relief. "He'll be watched by a special ghost at Hogwarts to ensure that he is safe, in case of the minutely, impossibly slim chance that this was an attempt to root out your family, instead of use you to get at me, and that someone is stupid enough to decide that Hogwarts is the place to attack to realize that revenge." Harry seemed to dismiss the possibility outright. Dudley was tempted to remind him that Harry had once seen that as an appealing option, but he decided against it. Circumstances were very important things.

"He'll be kept under Ministry watch until we wrap this whole thing up. As will you all," added Harry meaningfully, the look in his eye seeming to be picked up after years of marriage to Ginny. "You won't know they're there, or even see anything out of the ordinary, except once a month, when your protection checks in to ask if you've ever felt threatened or seen anything out of the ordinary."

"That wasn't caused by him," added Dudley.

Harry smiled, but raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no, you won't notice these guys, they're much too good for that."

"Well I suppose that's reassuring," stated Kate matter-of-factly.

"I've got a question," ventured Dudley, trying to finish his inquiries into the previous conversation. "Don't you wizards have magical ways of tracking people, special, I don't know, forensic charms or things like that? Why can't you just use those?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, we do. Forensic magic is becoming more advanced almost by the day, which is why…" Harry groped for words for a moment. "…which is why I can't decide if this woman was a genius or just had the best stroke of luck known in modern history." Harry met their eyes, but they returned only blank stares, so he explained. "You see, magic is like, well, an oil. It's sticky and it can get everywhere when you use it, and it's very hard to scrub clean. Or at least that's how the investigative department explained it to me. Whenever a wizard casts a spell, he leaves little traces of this residual oil in the air, or on his target, and certainly all over his wand, which is part of the reason wandlore is such a complicated art."

"And these traces are what you usually track?" asked Dudley, making sure he was following.

"That's right," confirmed Harry. "If you get really good at it, you can recognize different spells, or even different casters in just the traces left from their magic."

"But what about here?" asked Kate. "We're sure they were doing magic, powerful magic, but you said that you couldn't trace it, right?"

Harry nodded. "See…the problem is…" he paused, seeming to have as much trouble grasping the subject as they were. "…Magic is like oil for another reason too. It's highly combustible. Sure, it takes the right kind of flame, and the right kind of flame is incredibly rare, I know of only two examples, but…Fiendfyre, that's one of them. Even though the fire itself is magical, it devours all other traces of magic, scrubbing the supernatural background as clean as the natural one. Not even a dementor could track a scent out of there."

Sarah shuddered at the mention of a dementor, but Harry appeared not to notice. "That's why the house went up so quickly too," explained Harry. "Sure Fiendfyre spreads much more quickly than normal fire, but the entire house was engulfed in a matter of…seconds at the most. It's because it was eating through all of the magic that had been built up there through the centuries as quickly as oil-soaked straw."

"So you have nothing?" asked Dudley.

"Well we have a name," clarified Harry. "We'll see if we can get anywhere with that. We can question her muggle neighbors, ask them if they ever saw the other woman you mention, though I'm not hopeful on that point. And we have the basements. The Fiendfyre hardly even touched the lower levels, we might be able to detect magic by different wands, if there are powerful enough traces, we might be able to identify the kind of wand, and take that to old Mr. Ollivander, who can get us a name of the other woman. So a lot of possibilities, though none of them are that strong."

"And those are all being investigated right now?" confirmed Kate.

"Yeah," agreed Harry dully. "But I'm just worried that…" He looked a bit ashamed of himself.

"That what?" pressed Dudley.

"Well…that's it all useless. She covers her tracks too well, as we've already seen, and she knows what our leads are. Anything left behind will be eliminated long before we can deduce our way to the evidence. It's just…just pointless, like this whole operation. No benefits, no gains, no captures. Containment is all we could do. We didn't even see it coming enough to prevent it. The futility of all this death, all this destruction it's…just…pointless." Harry fell on the word like a crutch, supporting the ideological weight of his argument.

Dudley sat up straighter. He was about to do something he didn't think he had done once since he had found out that Harry was more than just an ordinary boy, that he was some kind of other strange being that Dudley had known so little about. But Dudley knew that this was the time to outright contradict Harry.

"I don't think it was pointless Harry."

Harry looked up. "Dudley, I don't mean to say that rescuing your family was meaningless, obviously it is very important, and I'm happy beyond measure that you're all safe, but if those witches…I don't know, had never been born, or had never schemed…"

"But they were born, and they did scheme, and that was their chance. If they hadn't been born, they never could have even had the opportunity to choose to become evil, or I guess good, theoretically, if you believe in all that…free will stuff…blank slate, you know…" Dudley was losing his train of thought, his orchestrated little speech was out of synch with the conductor's baton in his brain.

"But they chose evil," he continued, grasping at straws. "And you managed to divert the consequences away from the people who didn't deserve them. The innocent civilians. Er…me. And Kate and Sarah."

Harry looked unconvinced, but listened politely and sympathetically, which slightly aggravated Dudley's fervor. "Not to mention you destroyed a bastion of evil!" Bastion. Boy he was poetic today. "Who knows how many atrocities have been committed in there?" Atrocities. He was on fire, he really was.

"Dudley, I appreciate your efforts to cheer me up, but the house was only a building. Sure it had a history, but…"

"I don't mean just the house!" exclaimed Dudley, whipped up by his own remarks, like an out of control preacher. "The books, Harry! I told you about them. You knew some of the titles, and how rare they are, and how evil. They were first editions, not mass-produced, original, priceless, and irreplaceable. And don't tell me any enchantments protected them, or apparated them away or anything like that, you said so yourself that the Fiendfyre eats magic like flies on sugar."

Harry looked at Dudley, in a mixture of confusion, and some kind of emotion Dudley had never seen enter his cousin's face, especially not when directed at him. It seemed to be almost…respect. Harry stood, and placed his hand on Dudley's now healed shoulder. "Dudley, you're right. And I'm sorry that I lost sight of the good we accomplished today. I just take it hard whenever we lose a squad member…" Harry seemed to drift off for a moment, his chest trembling slightly. He looked so old.

"No prize is worth the life of a bystander," agreed Dudley solemnly.

Harry nodded. "It's a shame that there are so many situations that require them. But good old Drools wasn't a bystander. He knew what he was getting into from the beginning." Dudley assumed Drools was the nickname for the dead Auror. Or perhaps, the unfortunate surname. "And there's one more thing we gain out of today. We have among us, a hero."

Dudley smiled and nodded, rising to his feet. A bit self-congratulatory on Harry's part, but who was Dudley to judge? Dudley grabbed his hand, and shook it. "Yes, Harry," he said. "You have proved yourself a hero once again today, and I will never forget that you saved me." Harry's face turned from one of congratulations to one of bemusement.

"I'm…not sure I…" he tried to forge his confusion into words, but failed.

And suddenly, a small, tired voice piped up for the first time from Kate's lap. "He's talking about you, Daddy."

Dudley looked at Sarah. Her eyes were an icy blue, looking shallow and uniform across the surface, and yet with a deep lake of meaning frozen beneath them. Definitely from Kate's family. Those eyes were fraught with an understanding that Dudley had not yet gained.

"Me?" asked Dudley, confused, no longer donning the garb of eloquence. "I was the hostage, remember? I only got out with the your help Sarah, and even then I was a burden on everyone because of my shoulder. I'm not the hero here."

"I might disagree," contradicted Harry. "As would your wife, who you brought back from the brink of despair and death by encouraging her to fight the chains. Who you told to stay back and protect herself while you confronted one of the most dangerous witches since the time of Voldemort. Not that it mattered much," he turned to Kate, "Great timing by the way, Ginny would have done the same." Kate nodded, looking proud of herself, the first emotion he had seen on her face other than grim acceptance since the house had exploded in flames.

"I think your daughter would disagree," continued Harry. "Your daughter, who you caught and pulled over the reaches of a Grindylow trapped in that stair, your daughter who you pulled from the clutches of a fire hundreds of times more severe and painful than anything any muggle should ever have to experience."

"Wait, stop," said Dudley, a little perturbed. "Yeah, if you list off my actions, it seems like I did great stuff, but Kate was the one who resisted the chains longest."

"Only with your help," she interrupted, but Dudley waved his hand, continuing.

"She was the one strong enough to throw Sarah; she was the one who dove out and snapped Brista's wand."

There was a moment of silence as Harry contemplated. Kate looked a little embarrassed to have her achievements listed out in such grand order, but Dudley had just been subjected to it, so it seemed only fair. "I didn't say there was only one hero today."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I'm saying that I'm not a hero…because…well I didn't do any of that stuff by myself. Without partnership, and working together and all that, I would be dead in that basement, all of us would be."

But Harry just laughed, looking reminiscent, slightly infuriating Dudley. "Dudley, I understand," he said. "You're making the exact same arguments that I made years ago, when people tried to credit me with things that were mostly done by all my friends. And even though I still don't claim I'm a hero, I've learned that a hero doesn't have to go it alone."

Dudley thought about it for a second, then a huge grin broke out on his face. "Yeah," he replied. "No matter what you say, I'll never think of myself as a hero, but you guys can all think whatever you want."

"You've always been my hero," said Kate, reaching across the van and patting Dudley on the arm, smiling gently.

"Me too!" agreed Sarah, finally regaining a bit of her old energy.

"Thanks, both of you," laughed Dudley. "All of you," he said turning his attention to Harry.

"Hey," chuckled Harry, "Let's just call it even from that night at Little Whinging my fifth year."

"Oh dear," groaned Dudley. "I'd call that fair, but I'm not sure I want to start the precedent of me having to pay you back for all the…inequalities in our past." His mind flashed back to all the bullying and mocking he would have to pay for, if Harry so chose.

Harry laughed again. "Don't worry, Dudley," and for a second it seemed like Harry was going to let him off the hook. "With threats like this gone, you and I are going to have a long time to make everything nice and level between the two of us."

Dudley groaned, but everyone else finally let their mirth bubble over into a chorus of laughter.

When they had all calmed down, Dudley posed his final question. "Harry, what I don't understand is…how did it take you seven years to figure out that you had had enough trouble for a lifetime?" Harry laughed. "I think I'm done right now, and I've had maybe a couple hours of adventure."

"I don't know, mate, I guess it was just youth and inexperience. Besides, I didn't really have a choice but to keep going. Whereas for you, well, this one is now out of your jurisdiction."

Dudley nodded quietly. "Yeah…I guess so."

Harry suddenly came up with a proposal. "How does this sound? You get one last check by all the Healers, and then we send you back home, I hand this case over to my best new investigators, and we all take a nice long vacation. And then, when we're done, we all sit back, and raise our happy little families, and see each other as often as we like, and send our kids of to Hogwarts, and all live happily ever after and all that nonsense?"

Dudley laughed. "I think I could deal with that."

"Good," agreed Harry. "Because I think that's what you're going to have to do." And promptly three Healers seemed to appear out of nowhere at the back of the van, shooing Harry out and withdrawing a huge assortment of instruments that looked like a combination of a doctor's kit, a magician's handbag, and behind the counter at a candy store.

Harry waved one last time as the final Healer shut the door to the back of the van, and Dudley felt the car lurch to life, as a driver, invisible behind the barrier separating the front and back, began to drive away. Dudley hoped that the driver wasn't really invisible. And he hoped that the van would be staying on the ground, on the roads. But, as one of the Healers pressed what looked to be a lollipop made of ground beef to his chest, listening intently to the stick protruding from the end, Dudley knew that everything was going to be alright.

**Like I said, epilogue on Saturday, the next installment could start as early as next Thursday if I get enough reviews. So you all know what to do!**


	31. Epilogue

**Well this is it...I can't tell you how satisfying it's going to be to change this stories status to complete. Of course, it's not really complete, there is still potential for more installments. I have one started. The first two chapters are done, if a little unpolished. So, review if you want it, and put me on Author Alert so you know when it's out!**

Dudley Dursley sat alone on a rather pompous-looking new bench at King's Cross Station, not reading the newspaper. That wouldn't be a very notable fact; indeed, most of Dudley's time was spent not reading the newspaper, except for the fact that there was a newspaper positioned a few millimeters below the line of his eyes, being completely ignored. It was no more than cover for his annual pre-school event of people watching. And he had chosen a particularly interesting day to do it on.

Today was the 1st of September, the day where the station was rushed with a sudden influx of both ordinary and wizarding parents sending their young off to school. Dudley's own family was on its way, coming from home, while Dudley had left early from work, as was the tradition, now well established by Dustin's multiple trips. It was his fifth year, Dudley realized. Two more, after this one, and Dustin would be done. Well, maybe he'd head off to some kind of wizarding university, but as of yet, Dudley had heard nothing of the sort, and Dustin hadn't mentioned anything. Dudley didn't even know if they existed, all the wizards he knew seemed to jump straight into some kind of job training program. But of course, he was still a little young to be thinking so far ahead. No, for him, this was just another year.

But for Sarah…well for her it was special. This was her first year, and she was excited as…well, as any kid suddenly being transported from a world of the ordinary to a world of magic and delight. Even for kids who were raised in wizarding houses, magic was something that they observed, but never learned about, never practiced, and to know that they were going to be spending every waking minute thinking about and practicing magic? That was something special. With an odd mixture of fondness and disgust, Dudley remembered his first schooling, or at least, his first schooling away from home, back at good old Smeltings. Looking back, though he remembered how carefree his days were, he couldn't help but feeling that Dolores Umbridge would have fit right in with the staff. Not that it mattered. This was completely different.

A pasty white man waddled awkwardly past Dudley, jeans made for a man at least double his weight hanging around his knees, revealing almost the entirety of his white underclothes, and even some bare leg. His shirt, however, was a short, tight polo. An embarrassed child, maybe a second or third year, scurried along like an ashamed duckling. "Definitely a wizard," Dudley murmured to himself. Certainly all of those clothes had been in fashion at one point. Just not together, and not so riotously overdone. Though of course, for one who spends all their time in robes, baggy clothes would seem to make sense, and this particular gentlemen probably thought he looked just swell, despite the odd stares.

Another family passed, somber, as if they were headed to a funeral. A father delivering monologue to another man, perhaps a butler, an overly blonde mother not even acknowledging her two sulking children. Dudley took a look at them, but decided in the end that they were just normal muggles. They were standing past the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, and menservants were extremely rare in the wizarding world. They used to leave it to house elves, but now even those were becoming less common, thanks to people like Hermione.

Another family bounced along, father and mother beaming, their pure, perfectly straight smiles shining like a beacon from their rich, chocolate skin. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and Dudley couldn't help but smile as he noticed the sleeping red barn owl they towed behind them. There were two boys and a girl following them, all appeared to be school age. The girls were as jovial as their parents, but the boy was caught somewhere between the perpetual pout of adolescence and the excitement of the moment. He was enjoying himself immensely, and wished that he wasn't.

Dudley just laughed at that. He was glad that he had never had to deal with that from his own children. Kate's sunny disposition had guided Dustin through those rough, lonesome, identity-seeking years, both in person and letter, but also through genetics. Sometimes Dudley wondered what he had contributed to the two of his children, but he didn't really care in the end.

More families streamed past, wizard and Muggle, but Dudley was beginning to get quite good at differentiating between the two. Sometime it was something incredibly subtle, like one too many hands on a watch, or a hint of movement from a newspaper trying to stop its fidgeting under the eyes of Muggle watchers. Sometime it was less so, like when the two, perhaps three year old sister of one of Dustin's friends from school snatched her mother's wand and waved it in the air, spewing leeches in every direction. Dudley wondered how it was that he had never noticed wizards before they had been pointed out to him. Ever since he had known magic existed, he had seen quite a few demonstrations, even in public, but before, his mind had always been able to explain it away.

That was the real reason; he supposed, that no one thought it odd that a small child was able to spew leeches from a piece of wood. Well, first of all they probably weren't paying proper attention, but also, the uninterested mind is more likely to dismiss evidence, or cite counter-evidence, then to reconsider an existing viewpoint, more like a lawyer than a scientist.

But anyway, that was all irrelevant, because—

"Dad!" Dudley looked up, he could have sworn he heard Dustin, and it was about time for them to be arriving—

"Dad!" Was that Sarah? No, there was another girl, about her age, chasing after her father with an overlarge suitcase under her arm.

"Dad!" Now that Dudley listened the chorus was everywhere, a hundred children seeking attention from homogenously named parents, if his family was here, there was no way he was going to be able to see them without—

"Dudley!" And as suddenly as if she had apparated, Kate was in front of him, parting the crowds like a shepherd. Dustin and Sarah stood next to her, bags slung over their shoulders, dressed in Muggle formal schooling uniforms. Kate had insisted that they buy them, so that there could be some speck of familiarity in her brain, reminding her that they were, after all, just going off to school, albeit a very bizarre one.

"How long have you been there?"

"Probably like ten minutes," exaggerated Sarah. "Well, no more like twenty seconds," she admitted, "but it was still pretty funny. We kept calling you, and you ignored us for the first little while, until Dustin started calling louder."

"At which point I looked around as confused as a cow in a bounce-house until Kate took mercy and called me by name?" finished Dudley.

"Yeah, basically," laughed Dustin.

Dudley checked his watch. It was later than he had expected. "You're late," he chided, as if it were a comeback for his mild embarrassment.

"Yeah…" sighed Dustin. "There was lots of traffic. If only they would let us borrow those new ministry cars, I heard they can…"

"Be driven by an untrained Muggle?" completed Kate. "Because that's what you'd need if you wanted me to get you here safely."

"Well no, but still…"

"My point wasn't how we should get here next time," reminded Dudley, "but that we should get going this time, so that we don't miss our train." His family agreed emphatically. So they set off down the station, chatting about their days prior to now, which were uneventful, but provided necessary small talk. Dustin fretted over which house Sarah was going to be in, but she assured him that chances were nearly certain that she would be Hufflepuff, it was the sort of thing that ran in families. Dudley wasn't so sure he agreed, even the Weasley children were beginning to diversify, some of them were going to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. It was probably a good thing; Gryffindor was getting a bit crowded, especially with Weasleys. There was a running joke that you could tell a Gryffindor because he always wore his house colors on his head. Of course, Gryffindor colors also included gold, but that was generally ignored for the purposes of the gag.

And, much before he was mentally prepared, stood the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. It was always such an odd thing, this veil between worlds. Dudley, though welcomed and greeted by his friends on the other side, always felt like an outsider. It was a world of the unpredictable, the unknown, and if there was one Dursley gene that Dudley was grateful for, it was satisfaction with his own life. Adventure was for the young, and he supposed, for wizards. He remembered that a young James had once almost convinced him that if you aimed at the wrong section of the barrier, or didn't concentrate hard enough, you would end up on Platform 9 ½ which would take you straight to Azkaban. Fortunately, Harry had overheard a little bit of the conversation from an adjacent room and remedied the situation.

Dudley supposed that it was a symbolic barrier more than a mental one, he never really had any difficulty convincing himself that the wall was immaterial. It was only that he knew that he would be accepting the reality of the wizarding world by stepping through, the—

But his vigil of thought was interrupted by a buxom, pug-faced woman pushing straight through his family, separating them for half a second. Dudley quickly grabbed Sarah's suitcase once more, his arm found Kate's shoulder again.

"Ready?" asked Dudley, but the suitcase was already out from under his hand leaving him teetering off-balance, as Sarah giggled and broke into a run. And, in another second she was gone, vanishing into the wall into that indefinable trick of attention and mind-warping that is the embodiment of magic to Muggles.

"Well, wouldn't want to lose her," sighed Dustin practically, and he too started off towards the wall. Dudley had no time to prepare himself for his huge symbolic journey, which, now that he wasn't lost in the idea of it, seemed rather silly to him. He joined Dustin at an uncomfortable cantering pace, the speed of a walk without the grace of a run. The wall was rushing at him, almost of its own accord, it seemed, and now his momentum would carry him through, the suitcases pushing him more than he pulled them, and…

…he was through, into fresh pure air, or at least, as fresh and pure as it had been on the other side. And he was on the ground again, smashing a jumbled tangle of limbs underneath his chest. With a start he leapt to his feet, revealing the confused and distraught form of Percy Weasley.

After many hurried apologies and a few polite deferments on Percy's many petitions on broomstick regulation and registration, Dudley reunited with his family. They looked as if they were no more than awe-struck observers in an impossibly realistic 3-D theater. Even Dustin, after years of magical training, still seemed to be dazzled by the ordinary displays of the extraordinary going on all around him.

Dudley scanned the faces of the crowd for people he knew. There were Ron and Hermione, waving good-bye to their eldest, Ginny and Lily, standing side by side, Lily pouting mightily. Harry appeared to be having a quiet word with Albus. Down at the end of the station, if Dudley stood on his tiptoes, he could make out a tuft of turquoise hair that could only belong to Teddy Lupin, though he could barely see it, it was so closely mated to another silvery blond head of hair.

And there, a few feet away from him, was the scowling, yet slightly intimidated face of Draco Malfoy. Dudley had never seen him before, yet when he laid eyes upon him, he felt an odd surge of kinship. Both of them were the villains of Harry's childhood, malicious little bullies drunk on their own power. And both of them had learned that they were playing a much more serious game than they had expected. Dudley had gotten off easy, in comparison to Malfoy, but still, they fulfilled the same role. Malfoy, at least as far as Dudley knew, had never fully repented, but he certainly acknowledged that he had been wrong, and that was enough for Dudley.

Realizing that there was someone watching him, Malfoy looked over and caught Dudley's gaze. Dudley winked conspiratorially. Malfoy looked unsure whether to treat him with respect or disgust, and ended up with nothing but confusion. Dudley smiled, but reverted his attention to his own family.

"Dustin?" asked Dudley, the name serving as an unspoken question.

"Yep, I'm ready."

"Need any special advice, any requests?"

Dustin considered. It was a serious offer, not just a formality. "No, but I'll tell you if I think of any."

"Well…" Dudley nodded. "Onto the train." Kate gave him a tight hug, and Dudley threw in an arm. Dustin tolerated their embraces good-naturedly, maybe even returning a little bit of the affection. He was a good son.

"Sarah?" She looked up at her father, though she was now nearly at the level of his chest.

"I think I'll be alright, Daddy," she replied calmly.

"Think?"

"I'll be alright, Daddy," she asserted, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

"Letters?" he asked. "You know we're flexible on that front, you can ask Dustin."

"You write me whenever I write you, or whenever anything is on your mind, or you miss me. And I'll write you whenever I have anything interesting to say, and once a week besides that just for good measure."

Dudley smiled and ruffled her hair. "That's my girl."

"And if I forget I'm absolutely certain that Dustin will nag me like an old widow until I write."

"Only if you're in Hufflepuff," reminded Dustin from the steps of the train.

"You know I will be," shot back Sarah.

"The only sure fire way to be disappointed is to go in with absolute expectations," reminded Kate, punctuating the sentence with a kiss on either of Sarah's cheeks. Sarah rolled her eyes, but returned the hug when it was offered.

"Bye, Dad," she said, suddenly sounding like a little girl no more. She hugged him tightly. "I'll make you proud." The conductor's voice blasted over the crowd, making the final boarding call.

"You always do," replied Dudley returning the hug.

And just like that, she was gone, on the train, waving goodbye, lost in the crowd of faces, like one stalk of grass in a plain. The train was already chugging away happily before Dudley could even comprehend what had happened. A whoosh of hot air vapor blasted across the platform as the last cars lurched past.

"Darn steam," sighed Dudley, wiping away a silent tear. "Always makes my eyes act up."

Kate just smiled and hugged him around his broad chest. "That's my man," she cooed, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched their children depart for a whole new and entirely unique set of adventures.

Sarah bounded up the steps, her mind entirely bifurcated into two warring factions, one longing for a last day of childhood innocence with her parents, her brother, just a little bit more delay, the other half already forgetting them entirely, ready to explore this new world. She gave an occasional odd stutter-step of excitement as she strode down the aisle, attempting nonchalance. Fortunately, the density of students hid this little idiosyncrasy. Dustin had offered for her to sit with him as she was ascending the stairs, but she had kindly denied his offer. After all, she was going to have to make her own friends eventually, and as the compartments only seated four, bringing a little sister along probably wouldn't endear Dustin to his friends, as kind as they all seemed. No, she would find her own way.

And there it was, right in front of her. Albus was surreptitiously sliding the door to his compartment closed, despite the two empty seats within. Probably hiding from his undeserved fame, and unwanted familial visits. But Sarah wasn't family, she was much too close for that.

So it was with a start and a sigh of relief that Albus and Rose looked up into Sarah's face as she abruptly withdrew the door shielding the two of them from the hall.

"It's just you…" laughed Albus.

"Just me?" asked Sarah, cocking an eyebrow in mock offense.

Albus and Rose looked at each other, but Rose explained, "We were just certain that Victoire or Dominique or one of those other infinite cousins of ours would certainly come and dote on us, and honestly, I think we'll have enough attention as it is. Or at least Albus will," she corrected herself. Though Ron and Hermione were close to Harry in fame, their children had not inherited this genetic renown. There were just too many Weasleys for the public to keep track.

"Agreed," replied Sarah. "Then this seat isn't taken?"

"Well…" Albus hesitated. "James said he'd be by later, but he only takes one seat, so go for it." Rose rolled her eyes. She had never engaged in the same level of James worship as Albus. Or any level for that matter. She quickly diverted herself by diving into a pocket on the front of her suitcase.

Sarah plopped herself down in the seat next to Albus, comfortable around familial friends. "So what do you guys have planned for the train ride?"

Albus looked around, surprised he had been asked to plan ahead. "I dunno," he said. "I'm planning on loading up on sweets once the cart comes by, but until then…talk I guess. Catch up with any friends who come along."

Sarah nodded congenially. "That sounds like a good plan. Any topics in particular?" Albus looked lost, but Rose was more than prepared.

"Well," she interjected, withdrawing the searched for object from her suitcase, and spreading the huge cover story across Albus and Sarah's laps. Sarah barely had time to register a burnt-out wasteland, like an atomic crater in the middle of a city, before Rose whipped the newspaper back to stare at the story. After a moment, she paused, looked up over the edge of the paper, and asked pointedly, "What do the two of you think of the Glasgow Fiendfyre?"

**Fin.**

**Thank you so much to all my readers and reviewers, I just have two final requests.**

**1. Review one last time! Say whatever is on your mind, what you thought of the story, and what you think about a sequel.**

**2. Put me on Author Alert, if you want the sequel. Or if you're lazy and have a good memory, you can check in next Thursday.**

**Fondest appreciation,**

**kakistocrat**


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